Secrets
by Fiji Dreamer
Summary: John receives a mysterious invitation. My take on the post-Reichenbach reunion...with a twist. Pairing Sherlock/Molly. NOW COMPLETE !
1. A mysterious invitation

The envelope was plain. It arrived one morning at his practice with the rest of the mail. The address was handwritten but there was no mention of the sender's name.

_Dr John Watson, _

_5 Kensington Pl, _

_London W8 7PT_

John considered it for a moment. The handwriting was clearly feminine but it wasn't a familiar one. Probably an invitation card for another wedding, maybe one of his army buddies.

He had kept this old habit. Guessing, no, _deducing. _Paying attention to the little details. It had been three years. Three long years since his flatmate and best friend Sherlock Holmes had taken his own life.

The void he had left in his life was immense, the first year had been terrible. His limp was back and his nightmares were worse than ever. So many times he woke up sweating, the memory of Sherlock's bloodied face pursuing him even in his sleep. And that question that remained eternally unanswered: why?

He had tried so hard to understand. He couldn't bring himself to believe the official version. Sherlock being a fraud, a mythomaniac or maybe even a criminal? It was ridiculous. Moriarty was real, and John knew it too well. But it didn't explain why Sherlock had chosen to commit suicide. Could John have prevented it? Maybe there are been some signs that he had missed? He knew that his friend could suffer from bouts of depression between cases but… he never imagined things could end so tragically. Sometimes he was wondering if ever knew him at all. And sometimes he couldn't help feeling terribly angry at him.

Time passed and somehow healed his pain. Of course there was always a little something to bring back a flash from the past. That man in the street wearing a blue scarf or that silly deerstalker hat. But life was going on, more or less.

John took a paper knife and carefully opened the envelope. It looked like an invitation indeed, except it wasn't for a wedding, or a baptism or even a funeral. Actually there was nothing on it, nothing but an address:

_The Three Gables,_

_Billingshurst Road, Wisborough Green,_

_West Sussex RH14 0DX_

He had no idea of what this could possibly mean. And since the fatal game Sherlock and he had played against Moriarty, he wasn't so fond of puzzles anymore. He put the letter into his pocket but the though bothered him all day. He had received a lot of letters after Sherlock's death. Fans, people that claimed they believed in Sherlock but also all sorts of insults and even threats.

This one was different though, and he read it over and over. _The Three Gables?_ It could be the name of restaurant or a bed&breakfast ? But he googled the name and address and found no trace of the place. Also there was no time or date mentioned on the card. Was he just supposed to show up?

The envelope remained on his bedside table for many days. His girlfriend Mary saw it and asked him what he planned to do about it. He had known Mary for only three months, but they had understood each other instantly. She knew he had those moments of melancholy when he needed her silent comfort. But she was also aware that John Watson was a lion that couldn't be caged. When she saw the letter she got worried. She told him it could be a trap and he should at best ignore it or contact the police. But she also knew that, eventually, he would go.

^/^

On the following Sunday, John was on a train to Sussex. At the station, he took a cab which left him a bit outside the village of Wisborough Green. He looked one more time at the invitation card, the address was correct. The Three Gables was a beautiful stone house, almost a manor. The rain was pouring and he didn't bring his umbrella so he hurried towards the door.

There was a name on the doorbell, _Vernet_. He didn't know any Vernet. Maybe Mary was right, it was a bit reckless to answer such an invitation and walk into a stranger's house. _I say dangerous… and here you are_, though John. But he was carrying his faithful Browning in his left pocket. It was the closest thing to adventure he had had in ages.

He took a deep breath and rang the bell. He never expected the face he saw when the door opened.

^/^

_Molly Hooper_

He hadn't seen the woman in years. She had resigned from her job a few weeks after Sherlock's death and moved away from London. John couldn't even remember where. Was it Brighton? Or maybe Exeter? He hadn't been surprised by her departure. Bart's Hospital carried too many memories. Until today, he would carefully avoid the building, as the sight of this roof was enough to make him shiver.

"Hello John", greeted Molly, "please come in, you must be freezing."

He entered the corridor, happy to take shelter from the rain. Molly took away his drenched coat to hang it up. John took a look around him. The house was ancient, probably 16th or 17th century, but the decoration had been recently updated. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming but he was more puzzled than ever. What on earth was he doing here? And what about Molly? She had changed, he noticed. Her hair was a bit shorter and delicate make up enhanced her features. But the transformation was not only physical. She looked more self-assured, healthier, happier. The hesitant mortician who used to dress like a little girl had turned into a beautiful, confident woman.

"It's good to see you", she said with a smile, "we're glad you could make it".

"Molly I… I don't understand. Why… all this mystery? And what is this place?"

She bit her lip. "John, I know this looks weird but… you have nothing to worry about. There is someone who wants to see you."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you, it's… a surprise. Look it might be a bit of a shock but I promise you won't regret it."

John pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to make some sense out of the situation. Could it be Mycroft? The older Holmes did like dramatic entrances but they weren't in touch anymore. The last time they met was when John had moved out of Baker Street and the atmosphere had been frosty. John couldn't help holding him partly responsible for his brother's suicide. Who else then? He would find out soon.

"Alright, where is he?", he inquired.

"Over here", said Molly showing him the way. "It's this door, he's been waiting for you."

"You're not coming?"

"Not yet."

He slowly opened the door. It was a big room, probably a library, lighted by a fireplace only. At first he couldn't see anyone. Then, he saw the silhouette of a man seated by the window. He was looking outside so John couldn't see his face. He coughed to signal his presence and took a few steps ahead. This is when he noticed that the man wasn't seated on a chair. It was a _wheelchair_. So definitely not Mycroft. However, something was strangely familiar about him.

"Hello…", started John. "You made come here so… apparently you wanted to talk to me?"

There was no answer. Only the sound of the wood cracking in the fire. John was feeling increasingly irritated by this silent treatment.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

After a minute which seemed like an eternity, the man finally answered:

"My dear John… I am disappointed. You don't recognize an old friend?"

John's blood froze, he could recognize that voice amongst millions. When the man took a turn and revealed his face, he felt his knees giving up on him.

^/^

John could feel a bottle being pressed against his lips, and the taste of alcohol filling his mouth. The Scotch caused him to regain consciousness but everything around him was still blurry.

"_I told you it wasn't a good idea",_ said a feminine voice. It sounded both distant and close at the same time._ "John are you alright?"_

He blinked a few times and saw Molly perched over him. Her soft brown eyes were filled with concern.

"_He will be fine",_ said another voice. THAT voice. Suddenly John remembered. He just had a dream, in which he saw Sherlock. It happened to him quite often, but this one was so… vivid. And how could he still hear that voice if he was awake? What if it hadn't been a dream?

He suddenly stood up, and saw him. _Sherlock _

"I'm sorry my friend, I didn't imagine you would faint", said the detective with a smirk.

"No…" whispered John shaking his head, "this… this is impossible". He turned to Molly with a mix of fear and pain on his face: "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

She smiled to him softly. "No John, this is not a joke. Sherlock… is alive. I'm so sorry we had to keep this from you, but it was necessary."

He turned to Sherlock and pointed a shaking finger at him. "YOU… ARE DEAD!"

"John…"

"NO I SAW IT, I SAW IT !"

Sherlock tried again, his voice calm and steady. "John, I know you are a rational man and you don't believe in ghosts. So why don't you take a seat so that we can talk about it."

Molly settled a chair for John. Then, she went to sit right next to Sherlock.

John remained still. As the initial shock of the revelation faded, his mind was being hit by a cocktail of contradictory emotions. The exceptional joy of being reunited with his friend, but also a cold anger. All this time Sherlock had been alive, but didn't bother to inform him? He felt the urge to punch the man in the face. A multitude of scenarios started to cross his mind. Could Sherlock have survived the fall? It was highly improbable, but not… impossible. However he had witnessed the whole scene. He had checked his pulse and seen the blood. A head wound of this type would certainly cause irreversible damages…

A familiar voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

"The blood was fake", said Sherlock. "I told you before, you see but you do not observe."

"I don't understand… How did you do it? I saw you falling!"

Sherlock sighed. "Why don't you sit down? It disturbs me… you being taller than I."

John finally took the chair and looked at Sherlock in the eyes, waiting for an explanation.

"You saw me jumping from that building so you deduced that I had crashed on the pavement. But you are drawing conclusions without data. You saw me falling, right. But you didn't see me landing. Actually I made sure you didn't."

The events of that fateful day played back in John's mind. "You… you told me not to move… you told me not to move so that I would stay behind that wall. Then what did you land on?"

"There was a truck parked right downstairs, filled with laundry bags. And two men, the driver and an accomplice, both from my homeless network. Right after I fell, they put me on the pavement, covered me with blood and injected me with a drug which makes the pulse temporary undetectable. The timing was short before you arrived… but you were conveniently run over by a solitary cyclist…."

"… another member of you homeless network I presume?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"Then I was taken into the morgue, where Dr Molly Hooper was assigned to do my autopsy."

"I see…" murmured John. He was trying to process the information but felt like he was still missing so many pieces. «What happened after that? I know that Mycroft came to identify your body. Was he in the loop too?"

This time it was Molly who answered. "Not… initially. But things went wrong. I gave Sherlock the antidote to the drug. His vitals were back quickly but his state was alarming. Obviously the shock had been much more violent than we expected, even absorbed by the bags. He had several fractures and a severe concussion. Sherlock had told me that in case things went out of control, I should contact his brother, so this is what I did. He was transferred to a secret military hospital, but he slipped into a coma during the transport. When he woke up three days later, he said he couldn't move his legs. Initially we thought it could be caused by the head trauma, but the CT scan showed us otherwise."

John's face saddened. So far he had been so shaken by the news of Sherlock's return that he had almost forgotten about the wheelchair.

"Is it… permanent? I mean, there are a lot of progresses in that area, a surgery might be possible?"

"You can imagine my brother already contacted the best specialists in that field. It's a spinal injury, there is nothing to be done about it. And to be honest I have no will to become a guinea pig for experimental protocols. So yes I guess it's permanent."

"I'm sorry…"

Sherlock shrugged. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's just bad luck and miscalculation on my part. I knew there was a risk and I took it willingly." There was no self-pity in his voice.

"There's still something I don't understand…", continued John. "And I've asked myself this question over and over since that day. Why did you jump? Moriarty was dead and I know you weren't a fake. So why Sherlock?"

"After we met Richard Brook… I understood. It was a clever plan, really clever. I miss that poor Jim sometimes. He wanted to destroy my reputation, and push me to suicide. So I took the lead, I asked him to meet me on that roof. I was decided to stop him once for all, whatever the cost. I hoped I would be able to gain some time. But once he was dead, I didn't have a choice anymore. He had snipers. On Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and… you."

John closed his eyes. So it hadn't been another reckless act on Sherlock's part, it had been a _sacrifice._

"If they didn't see me jump, they had the order to shoot the three of you. But he did one mistake. He didn't think of Molly. I met her the night before and we prepared my little magic trick. I wasn't sure it would work, and… when we talked over the phone, I was honestly saying goodbye. But if it did work then I would have a major advantage over Moriarty's men. Everybody would believe me dead and I could work in shadow to dismantle the rest of his network."

John sighed heavily. "Jesus this is… unbelievable!". He took his head between his hands. "Do you realise that I went to your BLOODY FUNERAL!"

"I know, I am sorry. I am so sorry but I had no other options."

This time there was no smirk on Sherlock's face. Only the sincere hope to win his friend's forgiveness. Molly placed her hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. There was a tenderness about that gesture that caught John's attention.

"Wait… are you two?"

"What?"

"Together?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I leave for three years and your observation skills are almost reduced to zero?"

"I'm just… surprised, that's all."

"And you don't notice anything else? Anything new? I mean except the wheelchair of course."

John took a closer look at his friend. He didn't have changed much in his opinion. He was still wearing one of his usual designer suit and tight shirt. He had put on a bit of weight which was probably due to the lack of exercise and the fact of being more regularly fed by a girlfriend. But he didn't think that was the change Sherlock was talking about.

"No I… I don't know."

Molly giggled. Sherlock was nervously tapping his fingers on his knee, he looked exasperated.

This is when John saw it. The ring, on Sherlock's finger, and the matching one on Molly's right hand. His eyes were going from one to the other in disbelief.

"Finally !", exclaimed Sherlock.

"You… got married?"

"Yes", confirmed Molly with a broad smile.

"Wow… congratulations! That's fantastic, really! I'm… just warning you I might faint again because that's a bit too much shock for a man at the same time!"

Sherlock grinned and whispered something in Molly's ear.

She gave him a wink and stood up. "I'll be right back"

^/^

She left the room, and John and Sherlock found themselves face to face.

The doctor still couldn't believe it. The friend he had missed and mourned was there in front of him, alive. His secret prayers had been answered. And yet something still hurt. He felt… betrayed.

"Sherlock… why didn't you trust me? You asked help to Molly, to your brother but… not to me? Why ?"

"I couldn't. As I said I chose Molly because Moriarty though she didn't matter to me. And my brother wasn't supposed to get involved. With the three accomplices from my homeless network, it was already way too many people. Moriarty still had a lot of men out there, and they were watching you."

"You think I wouldn't have been able to keep a secret?"

"No. I said it was crucial that you believed it so that the world would believe it. I've read your blog, that article you wrote after my death. You wouldn't have been so convincing if you had known I was alive. There were… some many times when I wanted to call you. I even did on some occasions, just to hear your voice and then I hanged up. I stopped because you thought you were being threatened."

"The newspapers wrote so many horrible things about you… How could you let that happen?"

"I knew _you_ didn't believe them. It was all that mattered to me."

"I never doubted you."

"I know", said Sherlock with a smile.

John couldn't help smiling back to him. He stood up and walked toward his friend. He wanted to pull him into a hug but didn't know how. Finally he placed his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck and leaned forward, so that their foreheads would touch.

"I bloody missed you. You stupid, stupid man!", he whispered.

"Me too John. Now stop that, people might talk."

John started to laugh, soon joined by Sherlock. Like two kids, like in the good old times.

"So, you got married and… I wasn't even your best man?"

"It was Mycroft. You can imagine the ceremony."

"No… God! Actually I can't. Are you happy? You look happy."

"Funny for someone who liked to sneer at domestic life, right?"

"Right. So women were you area after all?"

"At least this one", said Sherlock, "you know, I wouldn't be here without her".

Suddenly he was serious again. "When I realised that I would never walk again, I couldn't see the point in going on. I considered suicide, for real this time. I spent three months in the hospital and then four more in convalescence. She came to see me every single day, even when I told her the most horrible things. And I don't know how it happened but she healed me. From my dark thoughts and from other wounds I had had for years. When I was finally released I asked her to come and live with me. We moved into this house, which belongs to my family, and we got married two years ago."

"She's perfect for you. I'm glad you finally realised it…."

"I know."

John smiled then fell silent.

"Oh you can ask it", said Sherlock.

"What?"

"The question you're not daring to ask. Can we have sex? Yes. It's not as easy as for other couples but… it's working. Quite good actually."

"Good"

"I've heard there is a Mary Morstan is your life?"

"You've been well informed."

"Is it serious? Or is she just another name on your impressive list of feminine conquests?"

"We haven't known each other for long but she's… special. So you'd better remember her name."

"Here we are!" said Molly reentering the room.

John turned around, wondering who the "we" was referring to. For the third time on that day, he received a shock that almost gave him a mini heart attack. Molly was carrying a baby.

"Was he sleeping?", inquired Sherlock.

"No he just woke up from his nap."

She sat, holding the little boy in her lap. He looked a lot like Molly, but his blue eyes were clearly Sherlock's.

"You… have a child?"

"This is our son, Thomas", said Molly.

"Thomas Hamish", added Sherlock.

Molly took his little hand and pointed it at John.

"Thomas, this is John, a very good friend of daddy."

"How old is he?"

"Eight Months."

"He's adorable."

Molly was beaming. "We were not really… expecting him. Even the doctors were surprised. He's our little miracle."

"Give him to me", said Sherlock.

He took his son in his arms.

"So tell me Thomas, do you think John would make a good godfather? Because we really can't let Uncle Mycroft be your godfather, that would be a terrible start in life."

The baby babbled cheerfully.

"I think that's a yes", said Sherlock. "Well only If you agree?" he added, looking at John.

"I'd love to."

He looked at the two of them. There was something odd about imagining his friend with a child. But he also seemed to be very at ease in his father's role. This was definitely a new Sherlock and he was as surprising as the old one.

"John, I asked you to come today because I have some important news. It didn't make the headlines, but Moran has been arrested last week. He was the last one on the list. My brother made sure he'll never be out."

"So you'll be able to come back?"

"Yes, we're moving back to London. I've got all the proofs, everything I need to clear my name. I'm thinking about contacting our old friend Kitty Riley to give her the interview she's been wanting for so long. _Sherlock Holmes is alive! _It would make a good scoop. What do you think?"

"I can't wait for it."

"I want to start consulting again. My brain is rotting but it still works. And the Yard's elucidation rate is ridiculously low since I left. But I need someone you can be my eyes where I can't go. Someone who knows my methods and who I can trust entirely. I know only one man who fits that description, and he's right in front of me."

"Alright. But I have one condition", said John.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"No more secrets."

"Fine, no more secrets."

_**THE END ?**_

_**So this is the first fic I wrote since the end of "Coming back". I had something like this in mind for a long time and of course I loved the Sherlock/Molly interaction in season 2 .**_

_**It was meant as one shot but I might write a little bit more if you liked it. Reviews are love ;-)**_


	2. The fall

_The Fall_

Molly was expecting it, but it's still a shock. Sherlock's lifeless body has been left for her at the morgue. She knows this is fake, just a magic trick they set up together but it looks so… real. It shouldn't scare her, she sees dead people all the time. But this is Sherlock. _Her_ Sherlock.

His hair is drenched with blood (not his, she prepared the pouch herself). They closed his eyes but his mouth is slightly open. His shirt has been removed as the doctors were trying to revive him. She hopes the CPR didn't last for too long. There are no burn marks so hopefully they didn't use the defibrillator. He looks strangely peaceful and she knows this is her last moment of calm before a long time. They agreed that he will temporary hide at her flat before he manages to disappear abroad. The perspective of living with Sherlock is undeniably exciting, but it will certainly not be peaceful.

She also knows that somewhere, a few floors above, John Watson is lying in an hospital bed. The doctors had to give him a sedative, for the shock. She cannot believe that Sherlock chose her, over him to be his confident. His words are still echoing in her mind _"You always counted, and I always trusted you."_

But enough daydreaming, there is no time to lose otherwise his heart might stop for good. She prepares the adrenaline shot and injects him with it. And she waits. He said it should take around five minutes but they are the longest in her life. Suddenly she breathes in relief, there's a pulse. _Thank god, there's a pulse._

The relief is brief though. The adrenaline should have provoked a shock but he is still unconscious. Molly gently shakes his arm and whispers in his ear.

"Hey Sherlock, you can wake up now. You're safe, please wake up…"

She warned him, a 70-foot fall, even absorbed by the bags, isn't riskless. He has, of course, dismissed her advice but maybe there is something wrong. Her fears are confirmed when Sherlock finally opens his eyes. He seems disoriented, unable to focus his attention, he has trouble breathing, he's panicking. Molly puts her hand on his forehead, trying to calm him down.

"Hush, you're fine Sherlock, don't worry. Do you remember what happened?"

"No… Moriarty?",he answers, wincing in pain.

"Moriarty is dead. And you made it but you probably have a concussion. Try not to move too much, I'll check if you have other injuries." She is trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. She remembers the time she once spent in pediatrics and dealing with Sherlock is often close to dealing with a child.

She starts to examine the detective when another wave of pain, much more violent, hits him. He lets out a load moan, like a wounded animal, which makes Molly's blood freeze.

"Talk to me Sherlock. Tell me, where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere… DO something!", he cries out. Suddenly his breathing becomes erratic and he is losing consciousness again.

"No!", exclaims Molly, "Sherlock you cannot sleep". No reaction, she grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him. "You need to stay awake, it's important." She takes his pulse, it's far too high. He's going into cardiac arrest.

She might be able to save him, for a moment. But he won't make it without a full medical support, and there is nothing in the morgue to take care of a living patient. She can feel the tears running down her cheeks. This is the worst possible scenario and she knows she has only one option left.

Her hands are shaking when she dials the number left her on a paper.

"Mr Holmes? This is Molly Hooper from Bart's Morgue. We met before… Did the hospital already call you about… Sherlock? Sir, I know this sounds crazy but Sherlock is alive. He's alive but he needs your help, we need your help."

_To be continued…_

^/^

**Many thanks to all of you who reviewed the first chapter! You are the best!**

**So I decided to write a bit more about Sherlock / Molly backstory during the hiatus. It will be shorter chapters but it may allow me to update more regularly. So stay tuned !**


	3. The sound of silence

_The Sound of Silence_

Mycroft did things well. He came to the morgue, officially to recognize Sherlock's body and transfer it to a funeral home. Outside, a medical team was waiting to take him to a secret facility outside London. Molly had performed CPR on him but his situation remained critical. Despite the doctor's efforts, he fell into a coma during the transportation.

Molly waited all the afternoon in the corridor. She quickly understood that this wasn't an ordinary hospital. All the staff was military and the area where Sherlock was being treated was "restricted". Nobody would inform her about his condition and the wait was excruciating. She kept remembering the moment when Sherlock came to ask for her help the night before. The way he had talked to her, looked at her, it was… just like a dream. But now her life had turned into a nightmare.

Finally, Mycroft joined her. When she had first broken the news to him, she swore that she could hear a flinch in his voice. But now he looked as impassive as ever, and terribly intimidating.

"How is he?", she asked hesitantly.

"Critical but stable."

Molly buried her face in her hands. "This is my fault…. I told him it was dangerous, I tried to talk him out of it but… I should have insisted. Instead of that I helped him… it's my fault !" Her voice broke into heavy sobs.

"Miss Hooper", said Mycroft calmly. "Nobody is blaming you. I know that my brother can be persuasive and I have learnt a long time ago that it is quite impossible to talk him out of anything. Also… I have my share of responsibility in the chain of events that led to this conclusion."

She looked up at him with teary eyes as he continued: "Miss Hooper, I am sure you understand the _particular aspects_ of the situation. Sherlock is officially dead. Even if he survives, he won't be able to come back until Moriarty's network has been completely dismantled. It is essential that you keep this information absolutely secret."

"I understand."

"Good. Which means you must act in consequence. You will take a leave from Bart's, pretending to be… depressed. Pay a visit to John and Mrs Hudson, attend the funeral. You may even be the subject of media attention, you will need to be convincing."

"I will do my best. And to be honest I don't actually need to… pretend being depressed."

"You're tired, I will send a car to bring you back home."

"Wait can I... see him before?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Alright, come with me."

Molly followed the older Holmes. They arrived to Sherlock's room whose door was locked with a code. Mycroft composed it and let Molly enter.

"You have five minutes", he warned before closing back the door behind her.

It was painful to see him like this. The Sherlock she knew was always in motion. She had though that he was invincible. But now he was fighting for his life, like any other mortal. _Almost_ an ordinary man…

She took the medical chart hung at the foot of his bed. The name of the patient was Alexandre Vernet. She guessed it was Sherlock's new identity from now on. He was suffering from a serious concussion with a risk of intracranial hemorrhage. The drug he had taken and the first CPR had apparently caused damage to his heart. His right arm, as well as his left wrist was broken. And the list was going on. She preferred not to think about the possible long-term sequels.

She gently took his hand. "Don't give up now. You cannot give up after all this. It would be stupid and you would hate it." She wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. "We're in this together. So I'll come back tomorrow and the day after tomorrow to bother you until you wake up." She waited a moment for an hypothetic answer. The silence that echoed hurt even more than his usual slapping remarks. The only noises that filled the room were those of the breathing machine and the heartbeat monitor.

Suddenly, she felt like a little mouse again.

"Ok, so I'll just leave now. Bye."

^/^

Molly didn't come back the following day. Mycroft didn't allow her for security reasons. Moriarty's men were probably watching all of them and they needed to keep a low profile at least until the funeral.

The ceremony took place three days later, in a small Church. There were more people than expected though. Not everybody seemed to believe the official version, Sherlock being fraud. There were many anonymous that he had helped along the years and who wanted to pay him a last tribute. She sat next to Mrs Hudson. The old lady was standing strong, although Molly knew what a tragedy Sherlock's death meant to her. He was the son she never had.

But the one that was worrying her the most was John. He remained absolutely still during the mass, his eyes fixed on the black coffin which, he though, contained his friend's body. It was in fact an unidentified corpse from Bart's Morgue. When some paparazzi tried to take pictures at the cemetery, John violently punched one of them. Hopefully Lestrade was there to hold him back otherwise she though he could have killed the man.

Molly didn't have to fake her tears when they lowered the coffin into the grave. Her secret was becoming heavier and heavier to carry. It was a betrayal. For a good cause, but still a betrayal. She went back directly at home when it was over. All the fatigue and stress of the past days finally caught up with her and she fell asleep with her clothes on.

She was woken up by a phone call early in the morning. It was Mycroft. She knew what this could mean.

"Hello?", she answered with apprehension.

"Good morning Miss Hooper. I apologize for the unusual time but this is about Sherlock."

"Yes? Did something happen?"

"He's awake."

"Oh my God! Thank you… How is he?"

"He knows who he is and he's starting to remember."

"Good. That's good. When can I come to see him?"

There was a silence

"Mr Holmes?"

"Molly… there is another problem."

His voice sounded weaker, and he had never called her by her first name before.

"What problem?"

"He cannot feel his legs."


	4. Broken Wings

_**A huge thanks to all of you who reviewed or subscribed to this fic ! Sorry if the next chapters are still a bit angsty… this is not a happy time for Sherlock and Molly but I promise it will get better.**_

_**Happy Easter and I hope you enjoy this chapter !**_

^/^

Sherlock is flying, or falling maybe. Is it actually so different ? He can feel the sharp air against his skin. The speed sensation is exhilarating. But it won't last long. He can see the pavement getting closer and closer and soon he's going to crash. It's a matter of seconds now, but it doesn't scare him. Actually he's curious. There's a loud cracking noise, probably his bones. He can see people gathering around him, looking worried. They are trying to talk to him but he cannot hear them. Their voices are more and more instant and their faces are fading. Everything is turning black. Is that it ? Then death is clearly overrated.

For once his mind is strangely peaceful, finally empty. But soon he is disturbed by an annoying sound. A beep that comes back regularly, like the beating of a heart. His heart. There's also a bright light which forces him to open his eyes. Everything looks white now. How disappointing, even the afterlife is a cliché.

He can see the shapes more clearly. He's in a bed. And the sound comes from a cardiac monitor. Hospital room. So it was all a dream, _interesting_.

How long has he been here ? And why ?

Private room, the door is locked with an electronic system. _Military hospital, Mycroft. _Normally he would be able to make those deductions in a nanosecond. But his mind is terribly slow. Drugs, probably pain killers. Also he's under assisted breathing so it must be pretty bad.

He starts examining at the damage. His right arm is broken, and so seems his left wrist. He won't be playing violin in a long time. His back hurts. Actually it hurts like hell, he needs more of those drugs, quickly.

At least his legs have been spared. He cannot feel any pain there. Actually, he cannot feel _anything_. Not good. With his right hand he manages to move the sheet so that he can see his feet. Then he tries to move his toes but nothing happens.

Suddenly he remembers. Bart's roof, Moriarty, the snipers. And his fall. It wasn't a dream. Except he didn't crash on the pavement, it wasn't the plan. He was suppose to fall in the bags, and then escape with Molly. So where is she, and why on earth can't he move his legs ?

He feels a wave of panic rushing over him. His breathing is accelerating and the beeping sound is getting faster and faster. It's driving him crazy. He grabs the electrode on his chest and rips it off. Then he does the same with the oxygen mask. The door swings open. Nurses, telling him to calm down.

"I can't move my legs, I can't move my legs !"

"Sir, you need to stay quiet. We're going to look after that."

"Where's Molly ? Where's John ? I want to talk to my brother, he cannot keep me in here. I am clean !"

"You brother will come to see you later, you need to rest for the moment."

" Who are you ? You're working for him ? Moriarty ? No Richard Brook ? I invented him… I invented him…"

"Sir we're going to give you something to calm you down."

"Don't touch me ! I invented him !"

Despite his protests he can feel the syringe entering his arm, and his mind is suddenly empty again.

^/^

The black car comes to pick up Molly in the beginning of the afternoon. She has been waiting all morning, but she's always dependent on Mycroft's good will since she doesn't even know where the hospital is located. Their last conversation is still haunting her. _"He says he cannot feel is legs…"_

Mycroft greets her in the lounge reserved for the families. He is as stoic as ever but he looks tired.

"When did he wake up ?", inquires Molly.

"Around 5 AM this morning"

"What about his legs ? Does he have any sensation at all ? It could be only temporary, sometimes it can happen after a coma. But… there was the fall so we cannot exclude a more serious problem."

"I know. We have some world class specialists here, he's in good hands".

"Good", nods Molly. "How is he… taking it ?"

"He had to be sedated… he was having a bit of a tantrum."

"Oh god…"

"He's calmer now. But he refuses to take the CT Scan. It will happen whether he wants it or not, but it would be easier for everybody if he agreed to cooperate. We've lost enough time already. Molly, you need to talk to him."

"What makes you think he would listen to me ?"

"Because he came to you when he needed help, not to me. And the doctors said he asked for you."

"I'll try. But don't you think we should contact John ? I'm sure he would be a great help."

"No. If Sherlock chose to keep John out of the plan, then he had his reasons. As I said before, secrecy is essential Miss Hooper."

"I'll do my best."

^/^

She enters the room with a bit of apprehension. It's still hard to see him in that state but she tries to keep her voice cheerful.

"Hello Sherlock, how are you feeling ?"

"Like someone who fell from a roof".

His voice is weak but it's comforting to see he hasn't lost his dry sense of humour. She goes to sit next to his bedside.

"Sherlock… I'm sorry it didn't work, I should have been more careful."

"It did work."

She looks surprised, so he continues. "Moriarty is dead. And everybody believes that I am too. It was the plan. It did work. Now I need to find the rest of his agents."

She takes his hand. "First you need to recover. That's the plan for now."

"I don't want to stay here. I was supposed to stay at your flat. Take me out of here."

"You know I can't do that Sherlock. You need a full medical support."

"You're a doctor."

Molly sights. She is starting to wonder whether he's playing with her or if he's being completely delusional.

"Not the kind that can help you. You're gravely injured and it's essential you take this scan. The doctors cannot treat you if they don't know what is wrong with your legs. They need to collect data, just like you do on your cases. I understand it is scary, but it's normal to be afraid…"

"I'm not afraid", he exclaims. "They are. My brother and his so called specialists. With their embarrassed smiles and evasive explanations. None of them has the courage to tell me the truth. But you can. So tell me, what are the options?"

She knows they're not playing anymore now. In her career she had to give a lot of sad news to families and friends. But never to the patient himself. Her patients are always dead so generally she just goes for a sober "he didn't suffer". Even if she knows it's a lie. But she cannot lie to Sherlock, it would be an insult to his intelligence. So she takes a deep breath and tries to be as precise as possible.

"It could be a consequence of the brain trauma. Your brain is not giving the correct information to the nervous system, which explains why you cannot feel or move your legs. It's a temporary dysfunction which should fade in a few days or weeks. You may need a bit of rehabilitation as well."

"Or ?"

"Or… it's a spinal cord injury."

"Go on."

"It's difficult to give a prognostic… It depends of the exact location of the injury and whether it's complete or incomplete which we won't know before several months. You could make a partial recovery and even be able to walk with clutches but it could also… stay this way."

He remains still for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then he looks at her and simply says "Thank you".

"Sherlock… I really hope this is the first option. But whatever the scan tells us, I promise that I'll stay with you."

"How long does it take ? The scan ?"

"It's quick. We can get the results in about an hour."

"I'll take it, at one condition."

"Which one ?"

"You will tell me the results."

^/^

She doesn't even need to speak. He knows instantly as she enters the room. Molly is probably the easiest person to read. So he spares her the ordeal to break the news.

"Spinal cord ?"

She nods. "The shock is located on the T12 vertebra , it's the lower thoracic region. But the injury can still evolve, it will take 4 to 6 weeks before the doctors can make a clearer diagnostic."

He closes his eyes, taking in the information. He suspected it from the beginning, but must admit he still had hopes.

"Sherlock…", she tries.

"Shut up !"

"I know this is hard but…"

"I said SHUT UP !", he screams, reopening his eyes.

She looks hurt and he feels somehow guilty but he can't think about it right now. There's too much anger in him and it needs to get out. He hates himself for having been so stupid. Now the plan is ruined, his life is ruined.

"Just leave please. I want to be alone." This time it's almost a whisper.

"I understand", she says sadly. "What I said before, it's true… I won't leave you."

He looks away. He can hear Molly leaving and the sound of the door closing behind her. He's alone, in this hospital that looks like a prison. And he needs to escape.

He has a place for that, his mind palace. He built it many years ago, when he needed to bury some painful memories. Now he uses it when he needs to clear his thoughts. Every room has a purpose. Some are for data storage, other ones for meditation. There's even a tiny place for sentiment, that he carefully avoids. But today everything is blurry. He's lost, like in a maze and all he can see are closed doors. He's running in a never-ending corridor, funny for someone who will probably never run again. Everything is black now. And Molly was right, he's afraid. In the echo, he can hear the mocking laugh of Jim Moriarty. _Falling is just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination. _

He tried to fly, but he broke his wings.


	5. The Darkest Hours

**Chapter 5**

Despite Sherlock's outburst, Molly kept her promise and came back to the hospital. She saw him briefly before he entered surgery, as an operation was necessary to stabilize the spine.

The following weeks were particularly difficult. Sherlock was under heavy medication which was making him sleep most of the day. During his few hours of consciousness, he retreated into silence. His initial anger seemed to have given way to resignation and the doctors added anti-depressors to the painkillers.

Molly guessed that he was probably terribly bored. She took a few books from her bookcase, mainly about medico-legal analysis, and decided to read to him. But he didn't seem to be paying any attention, his eyes remaining fixed on the television. The only think he could do with his broken arm was to hold the remote control and he was browsing absently through the channels. She noticed that he seemed to have a taste for the worst kind of trash TV, even if he never spoke a word.

It was getting particularly painful to visit him. Before, Molly would always be excited at the idea of spending some time with Sherlock. But now she sometimes had to force herself to find the motivation. She was still on her leave from Bart's, but soon she would have to go back to work. And his future was worrying her more and more each day. He wasn't making any progresses. By this time he should have been able to eat normally. But he was refusing all food and still had to be fed through an IV.

^/^

One of these afternoons, Molly was waiting by the coffee machine while the nurse was checking on Sherlock. She killed time flipping through some magazines, but they were all full of articles about the "fake detective". The tabloids never seemed to have enough. Every day was bringing new revelations from an alleged university friend or even an ex-lover. They all depicted Sherlock as a pathological liar, a cocaine addict and even a potential criminal. She knew all of it was false, well maybe not the drug part, but the general public would swallow it all without distinction.

Soon, she was joined by Mycroft. He took a copy of "The Sun" from the table.

"Those articles are disgusting", said Molly. "Why don't you… do something? I'm sure you have some power over the press. How can you let them say those horrors?"

"It's not what Sherlock would want. It was part of the plan…"

"What plan? Can't you see there's no plan anymore?", she exclaimed.

She surprised herself by her insolence. But after meeting with Mycroft everyday he seemed less intimidating. Actually it looked like he had aged 10 years within two weeks.

"I'm worried too, Molly. Honestly worried", he said. "My brother went through many ordeals in his life. And he always made it through. But this time it seems that… he's not fighting."

"I know", she whispered.

He looked at her with his piercing gaze. "I know you've already done a lot, and you have to go back to your life. But I ask you to try one last time."

^/^

When she went back to Sherlock's room, the TV was playing in the background and one of those stupid shows was on again. Molly put on her usual smile and tried to act as normal as possible. She had bought a new book especially for him. This one was about criminology so she hoped that it would interest him more. She had hesitated with a thriller, but she couldn't picture Sherlock as someone who enjoyed reading fiction.

"Hello Sherlock, How are you today?"

No answer came, which didn't surprise her. She was now used to those one-sided conversations.

"I saw Mrs Hudson this morning", she continued. "I came to say hello but John was out. She misses you a lot. She was complaining about what to do with all your stuff, you know how she hates the mess. She was thinking about giving your science equipment to a school. Also she asked me if I wanted to take something as a memory. I didn't know what to answer. Is there something you would like to get back? Mycroft said he would take all your papers."

She took the book out of her bag. "Alright, so I brought you this book. It's a brand new study of an American criminologist about serial killers, I thought it might interested you."

Molly started to read it out loud. The description of the murders was a bit gruesome, but with her profession there was not much that could disturb her. Unfortunately, there was no change in Sherlock's passive attitude. He was staring at a nonexistent point on the wall, his eyes empty of all expression. She felt a wave of discouragement coming over her, but she wasn't one to give up so easily. Maybe being too nice wasn't the good strategy.

"Sherlock are you listening to me?" she asked with a hint of irritation.

He took the remote control and raised the volume to cover her voice. This time it was a clear provocation.

"Sherlock please…", she said with a sigh. As he continued to ignore her, she grabbed the remote control from his hands and turned down the television. This time, he finally looked at her.

"Aren't going to leave me alone?", he spatted back. "You don't have to feel obliged to keep me company. I'm doing fine by myself thank you."

"I don't think you're doing fine."

"Well, maybe I would be doing better without your insipid conversation."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that", she said calmly.

He seemed to be thinking for a moment and his expression changed.

"You're right, I am sorry. I realise I never thanked you for what you did. I know I asked you a lot so… thank you Molly Hooper. But you're losing your time here."

"I told you I wouldn't let you down. If there's anything you need, anything I can do for you… just tell me!"

"There's nothing you can do for me. Nobody can. Now leave, please."

There was no more aggressiveness in his tone, but he was clearly dismissing her. It broke her heart, but she one couldn't help him against his own will.

"Good bye Sherlock. You can call me if you want."

"I don't have a phone", he said drily.

"Oh yes… of course…", she stuttered. _How could she always be so stupid? _"Well I mean… You can… ask Mycroft you know."

There was an awkward silence and she could feel she was starting to blush. She rushed toward the door but he suddenly called her.

"Molly wait! Actually, there is something you can do for me."

She turned around and felt a bit a hope coming back. "Yes, tell me!"

With a sign of the head he indicated her to come closer. She came to sat next to his bedside.

"I need that drug", he said gravely.

"Well, I'll talk to the doctor. But you know what your brother said about morphine, that it might not be a good idea to increase the dose because of your prior…"

"I'm not talking about morphine", he interrupted.

"Oh. What… are you talking about then?"

"I need the drug you used on that day, to slow down my heart. Except this time I will need a larger dose. One that will make my heart stop for good."

His words started to make sense in Molly's mind and her eyes grew in horror.

"I… Sherlock I… I'm not sure to understand."

"You understand me perfectly. You always do."

"I can't do that!", she protested.

"You said you I could ask anything."

"But Sherlock…"

"It will be quick, I'll just fall asleep. I'll leave a letter if you want, I'll discharge you of all responsibility. Nobody could sue you anyway since officially I'm already dead."

"Sherlock this is crazy! You don't seriously consider…"

"This is my only way out!"

His voice was still controlled, but she could feel his despair. Without hesitating, she took his hand.

"No no… I mean, I imagine… No I cannot imagine the way you're feeling right now. But it will get better. You will get better, and your brother is working on dismantling Moriarty's network. We'll clean your name and you'll be able to come back. And if you're in pain, we'll find something to make you feel better."

"It's not the pain. I can take the pain. It's…"

He closed his eyes, obviously trying to hold back some tears.

"Even if I clear my name, I'll never get my old life back, I'll never get my job back. I'm going to spend my life in a wheelchair and all I will get is pity looks and people whispering behind my back _poor Sherlock_. All my life I'll depend on somebody. Today it's to make phone call, but there will always be something. And I don't want that life. I don't want that…" He couldn't finish his sentence and broke into sobs.

Molly stayed almost paralyzed for a moment. There was something terrible about seeing someone so strong breaking down. Instinctively, she sat on his bed and took him in her arms. He didn't protest.

"Shhh", she murmured. "You can cry, it's ok to cry".

They stayed like this for a long moment, maybe an hour, maybe more. Molly holding Sherlock, his head resting against her chest. Sometimes he seemed to be calming down, but then the sobs were back even more violently. It was hard to watch but in a way she felt almost relieved. It was better than silence. She was gently running her fingers through his hair, in a soothing pattern. She even placed a soft kiss on his temple. There was something almost motherly in her attitude and he looked, indeed, like a lost child.

When his breathing seemed to be more regular, she started to whisper words of comfort in his ear.

"I want you to trust me one more time. Your arms are going to heal and it will make a huge difference. Then you're to going to start the physical therapy. I'll be honest, I don't know if you'll walk again, but you can still make some big progresses. And you're wrong about something. I don't see why you wouldn't get your job back, because all you need for that is your brain. And from what I know it's still working perfectly. I'm sure you already deduced everything about your nurses."

She heard him snort.

"You're not alone in this. I was at your funeral at the other day, there were a lot of people. People who believe in you. And don't tell me you don't care, because you jumped from a building to save them. Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, John…"

"I don't want John to see me like that…."

"Do you really think that it would change something for him? He misses you so much. Just imagine the day when he's going to learn you're alive. You can't deprive him of the joy of giving you a good punch in the face."

He raised his face and looked back at her.

"John wouldn't punch a disabled man. He has values."

Molly grinned. "I like it when you're sarcastic. It's a good sign."

"You won't tell anyone?"

"No… it will be our secret. We'll never talk about it again."

There was a knock and a nurse half opened the door. Molly was still seated on the bed and Sherlock looked away as his eyes were still red. The nurse gave them an awkward look and stepped back, but no wonder she would return shortly.

"I don't like that one", said Sherlock. "Maybe I should tell her that her husband is having an affair?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I think I have to go for now", said Molly. "I'll be back tomorrow. And really if you need something for the pain, I can talk to your doctor."

"I'm fine."

"Have a good night and promise me you won't think about this again."

"Good night Molly".

She was only half reassured, but he looked better. Tomorrow would be another day. She picked up her things and prepared herself to leave.

"Molly…", he called again.

"Yes?"

"If you insist on reading to me… forget criminology. I would like a book about bees."


	6. Listen to your heart

**Chapter 6**

Molly came back pretty shaken from her last encounter with Sherlock. She couldn't believe he had thought of taking his own life. She already knew that there was a more sensitive side to him. Not many people knew about it as it was so carefully hidden. But today, the mask had fallen completely. She had seen the human being, genuinely scared, behind the genius. The though kept her awake until late at night, but in the morning, she woke up with a plan.

She had always been an optimistic, she got that from her dad. He used to say "the only place to go when you hit rock bottom is up", and she had kept this motto as hers. She took a shower, dressed with her favorite cardigan, the one with the cherries, and went out to do some shopping.

First, she made a stop at WHSmith. She had no ideas why he was interested in bees, but Sherlock had mentioned it so she picked some books on the subject. She took "The Buzz about Bees: Biology of a Superorganism", "The Beekeeper's Bible: Bees, Honey, Recipes & Other Home Uses" and even "Beekeeping for dummies". She wasn't sure about the last one, but she though it was funny.

Then, she went to buy some dim sums in a little restaurant close to her place. She knew how picky Sherlock could be about food, and he certainly didn't enjoy hospital meals. If she wanted him to eat, she had to bring something he liked and she remembered John saying once that Chinese cuisine was his favorite.

When she arrived at the hospital in the beginning of the afternoon, she was pleased to see that he looked slightly better. As she promised, they didn't say a word about what had happened the night before. Of course he complained when she turned off the IV, and pretended not to be interested by the dim sums. But he changed his mind after she ate a few ones in front of him. He couldn't hold a fork, and even less chopsticks, so she had to feed him. He looked like a sulky little boy as she was bringing the food to his mouth, but in the end he finished everything.

They started by the book about the biology of bees, this time with no TV playing in the background. Sometimes he would close his eyes and she thought that he had fallen asleep. But he would reopen them as soon as she would stop reading. On a few occasions he asked her to repeat a sentence. She wondered why he had chosen this particular field of study, but it was good to see him finally showing interest for something.

By the end of the week, Molly could note a clear improvement in his behavior. Of course he still had frequent mood swings, but she was slowly taming the injured tiger she was dealing with. The doctors were also satisfied with his progresses. Even if his general state was still precarious, there were some encouraging signs and his blood pressure was getting better.

^/^

On Saturday morning, Molly was once again ready to leave to the hospital. She was supposed to go back to work on Monday, so it would be one of the last days she could spend entirely with Sherlock. Of course she would still visit him, but it would be different. Her main concern was how he would occupy his mind, so she had bought him an Ipod and filled it with classical music. There was also one playlist of pop songs, Molly's favourites. She knew that he would certainly hate it, but it would at least make him sneer.

The black car that would pick her up everyday parked in front of her flat. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Mycroft Holmes himself on the backseat.

"Hello Miss Hooper", he greeted.

"Oh hello", replied Molly. She took place inside with a bit of apprehension. It was the first time the older Holmes joined her for the ride, usually he would simply send his driver. The car started and an awkward silence settled between them.

"What is it today?", finally inquired Mycroft, aiming at the bag which contained the meal Molly had cooked for Sherlock.

"Italian meatballs. He told me he liked the ones he used to eat at Angelo's."

"You take good care of my brother", he said with his usual forced smile.

"I care for him", she replied spontaneously.

"A bit of an understatement, from what I heard. I am sure you are aware though, that he cannot reciprocate your _feelings_."

He had pronounced this last word as if he was speaking of a disease. Molly could already feel herself blushing.

"I'm not asking for anything in return".

He studied her for a moment. She knew that, like Sherlock, he had the capacity to deduce everything about her. With time, she had also learnt to read Sherlock's emotions. Few people were capable of it and she had surprised him that day at the morgue when she saw that something was wrong with him. Buy Mycroft was still a complete mystery to her.

"I understand that you must go back to your work. But would you let me make you an offer?"

"An offer?", asked Molly.

"I'm asking you to consider quitting your position at Bart's and taking care of Sherlock on a full-time basis."

Her jaw dropped in surprise but Mycroft continued before she had the time to let out a sound.

"You would tell your colleagues that you found another position and decided to move out of London. They won't be surprised after what happened. I guaranty you a very comfortable remuneration and free accommodation close to the hospital. You would be able to go there on your own."

"I… I'm not a nurse!"

"No, you are a doctor. But most of all Sherlock trusts you, which is extremely rare. If he doesn't have you checking on him, I am afraid his state is going to regress. I am only asking you to continue what you are already doing. Spending time with him, making sure he is eating properly, giving him hope. That could also include a few medical procedures, but the hospital's staff will be there to assist you."

"I… I don't know if I…"

"You don't have to give me an answer today. It can wait until tomorrow. But please do not say anything to Sherlock before you reach a decision."

^/^

When she came back home at night, Molly tried to have diner but her appetite had deserted her. She knew that Mycroft was waiting for her answer, and the choice was a hard one to make.

She loved her job. She had worked hard to get it, even when her family had disapproved of her choice of profession. Was she ready to give it up? To take care of a disabled man? Was it what she had planned for her life?

But Sherlock wasn't just anybody, he was the man she loved. And despite what she had told Mycroft, she still hoped that one day he could feel the same about her. Maybe it would never be love, but at least it could be respect. His road toward recovery would be long and painful, but it would be considerably easier with someone at his side. Could she be that person?

As she searched for an answer in her heart, she realised there was no way she could say no. She remembered the disgusted look on his face when he had listened to ABBA's "Dancing Queen" that afternoon, and the laugh they had shared afterwards. She would give anything to hear his laugh again.

It wasn't like she was living a lot behind her anyway. She had no close family in London and her colleagues were mere acquaintances. Of course there was John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, but lying to them was getting more difficult every time. Mycroft was right. She would just have to say that she couldn't stand stepping into Bart's anymore, too many memories. Everybody would understand.

Molly turned off the light and Toby jumped on the bed to curl up next to her. Tomorrow morning she would write her resignation letter.

^/^

I'm so sorry for not updating sooner. Many things kept me very busy during the past weeks…

Also I've discovered another fic with a similar theme (except it's Johnlock instead of Sherlock/Molly). It's called "No More Heroes" by Alioseven. I really suggest you to read it because it is excellent. So good that I sometimes wonder if I should continue mine!

I've got the whole story in my mind but sometimes it's hard to put it into words especially since English isn't my first language. But many thanks for your kind reviews ;-)


	7. Bad Days

**Chapter 7**

The following week, Molly moved into the flat Mycroft had rented for her. It was decorated with taste and a lot more spacious than her own. Her only condition had been to be able to bring her cat Toby, which had been easily granted. She had received an access pass to the hospital, and finally learnt its exact location, about 30 miles from London.

Mycroft had informed his brother that he would continue to receive daily visits from Molly. The younger Holmes didn't show any satisfaction but didn't rant either, which was an encouraging sign.

Molly was a bit anxious about this new situation, but Mycroft had insisted that it was only the continuation of what she had already been doing. He also clarified her tasks and schedule. She would rest in the morning, while a doctor and two nurses were still looking after Sherlock. Molly was relieved to learn that she wouldn't have to deal with the more intimate aspects of his care, as it would have been pretty awkward for both of them.

She would arrive at noon, with the lunch she continued to cook personally for him. The afternoons were spent between reading and talking. Molly had asked Sherlock to teach her about the "science of deduction". It turned out to be a clever way to make him open up to her. It was something that had always amused Molly. Sherlock, who claimed to indifferent to people's opinion, loved to have an audience. As other ones would put it less elegantly… he was a show off. So when Molly innocently asked him to enlighten her about his "art", he gladly executed.

He could go on for hours about the countless facts one could deduce about hands and nails, a stain of mud on a shoes, a poorly ironed shirt or a bunch of keys. Molly would listen attentively and then test her newly acquired competences on the hospital staff. Sherlock would listen with a smile and give her a praise, only to have the pleasure to tell her afterwards that most of her deductions were erroneous and make his own demonstration.

During his afternoon nap, she would go out for a walk in the hospital's garden. It was actually a nice park where they could come when Sherlock would be authorized to go out in a wheelchair. Then, she would come back for diner and watch TV with him until his sleep time.

This was on his good days. There were also the bad ones, on which he was irascible and brusque. Molly tried not to take offence as she knew how hard the whole situation was for Sherlock. He was a man of action and being stuck in a hospital bed was a true torture. He was also very proud and had a hard time accepting his dependence to others. The lack of intimacy, the humiliating situations were taking a toll on his spirits. He was still battling with bouts of depression and was medicated for it. But the worst was to know that there would be no real recovery at the end of a road. There could be some improvements, but his life would still be changed forever.

His health was improving slowly, he was now able to maintain a seated position. But there were also the countless complications of paraplegia: respiratory problems, chronic back pain, bed sores… and the delicate subject of personal care.

Molly's medical interventions were reduced to a minimum. She was a moral support, a stimulating conversation partner and, sometimes, a shoulder to cry on. It didn't require any particular competence, but it was more demanding than anything she had done before. One day he was being charming, and the following one he treated her like a slave. Many times, she waited for a thank you that never came. And then a furtive smile would cheer her up for the whole week.

This permanent emotional rollercoaster was exhausting. It was also reopening old wounds. More than once she cried herself to sleep and she wondered if Sherlock knew about it, if he knew about… everything. But it was the past and it didn't mattered. At least it was what she was trying to convince herself of.

^/^

Six weeks after the fall, Sherlock was finally freed from his casts on the arm and wrist. It meant that he would soon be able to start physiotherapy, which would be a major milestone on his way to recovery. But when Molly arrived at the hospital that day, she immediately knew it wouldn't be good one.

"Hello!", she greeted. After hanging her coat on a rack, she came to sit next to Sherlock's bedside. He didn't care to answer and gave her a reproaching look. It was 12h20 and Sherlock usually expected her at noon sharp.

"Sorry I'm late I had to take Toby to the vet, he was still sick. I didn't have time to cook, so I got pizza from that Italian place in the street. And guess what? I deduce from the pizzaiolo's thumb that he used to work on a boat, and I was right! He looked at me as if I was some kind a witch!"

"Fascinating", mumbled Sherlock.

Ignoring his comment, she opened one of two large pizza boxes she had brought and continued: "OK, and since we said I'm not helping you to eat anymore, pizza is easy to start with."

"I'm not hungry."

"Come on! This cheese smells delicious."

"I said I'm not hungry! Are you deaf or did you use your daily quota of intelligence with that pizzaiolo?"

Molly lowered her eyes and her smile faded. Sherlock laid back his head and sighed.

"What is it? Is your back hurting again?", she asked shyly.

After a moment of silence, he answered.

"I called John."

"You… what?"

"This morning, of one the nurses forgot her phone on the table. I took it and I called John."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No, I didn't say anything. I just listened. He asked who it was a couple of times, then he got angry and he hung up. He sounded… sad."

"Of course he's sad."

"But it has been six weeks."

"Sherlock… His best friend killed himself in front of him. He will move on, I hope so, but it will take time. Much more time."

"Is it true he left Baker Street?"

"Yes. He's staying with his sister for a while. He said he couldn't go back to the flat and stare at your empty chair."

Sherlock's expression became almost melancholic.

"I'll never go back either", he stated.

"Why?"

"Because of the stairs"

_Oh good one Molly_, she thought to herself.

"Do you think he will forget me? It might take years before I can come back."

"I doubt it. You're not really forgettable", she said giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "So are you really going to let me eat this pizza on my own? Not exactly good for my diet."

"You can indulge yourself".

"Oh… so now you're not complaining about my weight anymore!", she teased.

"I never said you were overweight. But you choose particularly unflattering clothes for your body type. Either you do it on purpose or you happen to have particularly poor taste in fashion. That dress you were wearing last Christmas was absolutely hideous."

The smirk on Molly's face disappeared, immediately replaced by an expression of profound disgust.

"You can't help it right?"

"Molly…"

"You always, always have to say something like that. And it's not funny, it's… insulting and hurtful and... and then you keep saying you're sorry but you never change and…"

She tried to continue but soon she burst into tears.

Sherlock was staring at her, puzzled. One minute ago she was joking and now she was a sobbing mess. It was always the problem with women, their behaviour was so… unpredictable. Of course he had been a bit blunt, but she was used to it. He did a quick mental calculation, wrong time of the month, her hormones were probably to blame. But there had to be something else…

He looked at her carefully, his pupils quickly moving, scanning every little detail, and suddenly a realization hit him. The though almost made him sick and he felt stupid for not understanding it sooner. For so many years he had _seen_, but not _observed_. It was too late to apologize and certainly not the time for one of his impressive deduction monologues. Molly was starting to calm herself, but he noticed the almost imperceptible tremor in her right hand.

"I should leave, I'm sorry. Forgive me I'm…I'm…", she stuttered.

"No", pleaded Sherlock. "You're right, I can't help it. My therapist calls it a defense mechanism. We all need to hide ourselves right? You hide behind your clothes, I hide behind my words… I didn't mean to insult you. You have a beautiful silhouette, it's a pity you don't show it more often. So you see, I was actually trying to make a compliment. But as you've already guessed it's not really my forte. I won't tell you it won't happen again, because you know it's not true. But I'll try."

He gently wiped the last tear rolling on her cheek.

"And please don't say you're sorry anymore."

^/^

_**First of all many thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter and sent me messages of encouragement. I really appreciate ! I didn't give up on this story but I know it took me forever to update. I was travelling so I had little time to write. But I had time to think about the upcoming chapters and I actually kept changing my mind about what I wanted to do or not... But I also came up with new ideas and I can't wait to include them.**_

_**I hope you enjoy this one, and please review ;-)**_


	8. A Summer Afternoon

**Chapter 8**

From that day on, something changed in Sherlock's attitude towards Molly. Some of his smiles were a bit forced and she could tell that he was holding back on his usual remarks, but overall he was trying to be more human.

She was puzzled about what had caused this sudden evolution. But she remembered his nice words about her silhouette. It was the first time he had ever made a positive comment about her look. So far it had always been about her lips, which were too thin, and her breasts, which were too small. Molly didn't consider herself pretty, she wasn't particularly ugly either, just average. She normally wore little make up and didn't feel comfortable in sexy dresses and high heel shoes. She had tried to dress up for Sherlock at the Christmas party, but apparently he didn't fancy her outfit. For sure she wasn't a vamp like this _Irene Adler_, the woman he had recognized from… _not her face_.

She had googled her name on the internet and had been shocked to discover that Adler was a dominatrix. What had been Sherlock's connection to her? Was he…one of her clients? She didn't even want to think about that possibility. But she was still curious about his relationship history. She had never seen him with a woman. Of course there had been a lot of rumors about the fact that he and John could be more than flatmates. But from what she knew John was a bit of a womanizer so it didn't make sense.

Could there be any chance that he returned her feelings? After al, he had come to her when he needed help. She though again about what he had said, and took a look at her wardrobe. There were a few dresses, rarely worn and kept for formal occasions, but it was mostly composed of jumpers, cardigans and baggy pants. Comfortable clothes but hardly feminine she agreed. She couldn't change her style completely but maybe she could make effort as well if this was what he liked.

She tried not to make it too obvious. But she went shopping for some new clothes and started to wear them from time to time. One day it was a pretty blouse showing a bit of her décolleté, the other one a nice ruffled skirt. He didn't say anything but she was amused to see his eyes wandering a bit too long on her legs. Maybe he wasn't such a lost cause after all?

^/^

Sherlock was now meeting every morning with his physiotherapist. The goal was to help him being the most independent possible, learning how to sit upright, get out of bed, dress himself… He also needed to develop his upper body strength in order to reduce his back pain and compensate for his other muscles.

The next step was to learn how to use a wheelchair. Mycroft had ordered one of the most advanced models on the market, imported directly from the US. But when it arrived, Sherlock first refused categorically to use it. Maybe it was one of his usual whim to piss off his brother, but more likely it was because it was a symbol. The symbol of his disability. He knew that with no improvement of his leg's sensibility in 3 months, his hopes of making a recovery, even partial, were slim. Boycotting the chair was a way to deny this new reality, even only for a few days. However when he finally made up his mind, he mastered it quicker than any patient his therapist had seen before.

It was shortly after those days that the investigation on Moriarty's agents made an important progress. Mycroft had a secret cell of men tracking night and day their possible moves. The more they dig into Moriarty's network, the more they discovered the immensity of his influence. He had gathered a fortune thanks to his consulting services and was funding a vast range of criminal activities around the world: illegal gambling, prostitution rings but also arms trade and terrorists cells. His empire had a very complex juridical structure, mostly based in offshore countries.

The most dangerous of those men was an ex-army Colonel named Sebastian Moran. He had been Moriarty's second in command for years and had now succeeded him. He also had the reputation of being one of the world's finest snipers, and no doubt Sherlock and his friends would have no peace as long as he was alive. When Mycroft was informed by a trustful source that Moran may have been spotted in South America, he decided to take the trip himself in order to investigate the lead. It was an unusual move for Mycroft, who normally despised doing any "legwork", but it proved how far he ready to go for his younger brother.

Sherlock was of course keeping a close eye on the chase. He was also delighted to have Mycroft off his back for at least three weeks.

^/^

It was now summertime and the weather was particularly warm this year. Molly had decided that Sherlock was desperately in need of sun and altered their usual afternoon schedule. They were now spending most of their time outside, discovering the hospital's park which was a good training for Sherlock's wheelchair practice, or just chatting about various topics.

One that particularly interested Molly was Sherlock's family. The brothers had mentioned their mother a couple of times, and she had even caught sight of her at the funeral, but his background was still very mysterious. She took her chance to find out more about the subject one day they were resting in the shadow after a walk. Molly was seated on a bench and Sherlock was reading a book when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a SMS.

"Mycroft?", inquired Sherlock, his eyes not moving from his book.

Molly took a look at her phone. "Yes, your brother sends his regards from Montevideo."

"Dull."

"Hum, Sherlock?"

"Yes…"

"I was wondering… how come your mother didn't visit yet?"

"Because she doesn't know I'm alive."

"Oh", said Molly. "Why didn't you tell her?"

"You were supposed to be the only one to know. We had to inform Mycroft and some of his agents which make already way too many people, it is unnecessary to involve anyone else."

"But… she's your mother!"

He sighed and finally closed his book.

"My mother has been suffering from depression all her life. This would just… confuse her even more and she could jeopardize the secrecy of the plan."

His tone was very matter of fact, but Molly felt that she had touched a sensitive chord.

Sherlock continued: "And to anticipate your next question, no my father won't come either. He passed away when I was eighteen."

"I'm sorry. My father died when I was twelve, lung cancer. I miss him… I wish we had more time together."

"I don't particularly miss mine", replied Sherlock.

"What was he like?"

"He worked for government, foreign affairs. He was rarely at home. He was either travelling or with one of his mistresses."

Molly nodded silently. She was starting to have a clearer picture of the Holmes family, and it wasn't a happy one.

"Did… you and Mycroft ever get along?"

"Surprisingly, yes. As I said my father was absent and my mother was often unable to take care of me. So Mycroft did. Then he left to college, I grew up and… things changed."

"There seems to be a lot of old grudges between you two", noticed Molly.

"There are."

She had hoped to learn about the cause of their rivalry but Sherlock didn't seem keen to expand on the subject.

"I have a brother too", she said. "But we aren't very close either. He lives in the States now. Well… I wonder why I'm telling you this because I'm sure you already know."

Sherlock grinned. "I do indeed. For example it is quite obvious that you are not in best terms with your mother."

Molly looked down.

"But it doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it", he added.

"My mum leaves in Dorset. And you're right, we're barely talking to each other. I mean… she's my mum and I love her but… it seems that nothing I can do if ever good enough for her. Unlike my brother, he's always been her favorite. When my father was still there it was different. But after he died… I felt very lonely. That's why I'm not very close to him either. All he can do is putting me down, asking… why I'm still single, why I chose such a weird job… He's a trader, he has a beautiful wife and two children. They're my mother's pride of course."

"I personally believe you bring a much more significant contribution to society than someone who speculates on virtual products and contributes to ruining our economy", stated Sherlock.

"Thank you. Is Mycroft married? I noticed he was wearing a ring."

"He is."

"Oh really? What is his wife like?"

"_She_ is a forty-five lawyer named William."

"Oh!", exclaimed Molly. "I'm sorry, I assumed… I'm just surprised. But it's fine, really."

"I know it's fine. My brother-in-law is probably the most tedious man on the planet, but I guess that makes them a good match. And they have two absolutely horrid dogs", said Sherlock rolling his eyes.

Molly smiled picturing herself Mycroft and his husband spending their evenings in front of a fireplace with two basset hounds.

"You don't like dogs, do you?"

"Not particularly, I was beaten by one when I was in Uni. And I won't even speak of the Baskerville case…"

"But you like bees?"

"I like bees."

"Why? I read you all those books about bees, and I agree they're fascinating creatures, but how did you get interested in them? It's funny but I don't really imagine you as a… bee person."

Sherlock put down his book on the bench and rolled away. Molly was used to his unpredictable behaviour, but she wondered if she might have said something that had irritated him.

"Come here!", he suddenly called.

She obeyed and found him in another part of the garden. It was a beautiful flower bed, with a few bees happily buzzing around.

"Sit down", commanded Sherlock.

She knew he would always insist on people sitting down because he couldn't stand the height difference. But she wondered _where?_ as there wasn't any seat around. Then she realised that he had meant _sit on my knees_ and she blushed.

"I already told you there was nothing wrong with your weight. And anyway you know I won't feel anything."

Feeling both intimated and excited, Molly settled carefully on his lap and passed her one of her arms around his neck.

"They're beautiful aren't they?", said Sherlock.

"Bees… or flowers?"

"Both."

His thin fingers pointed towards a particularly elegant white rose.

"See…what a lovely thing a rose is. Some people believe that flowers are a proof of the existence of God. Because they are beautiful without a purpose and it is only goodness which gives extras. In fact the real explanation is much more prosaic. Flowers are beautiful because it is their way to survive through natural selection. Everything about them, their perfume, their color is carefully calculated to attract insects such as bees in order to facilitate pollination. But they also need protection, hence the thorns. Beautiful and dangerous, I believe we have much to learn from flowers."

"I didn't know you were such a romantic", teased Molly.

"It has nothing to do with romanticism, those are simply scientific facts."

"You have a way of putting things, Mr Holmes."

She giggled and gave him a beautiful smile. Sherlock started to laugh with her and, instinctively, Molly buried her head his chest. She was sure he could hear her heart which was beating faster and faster. She expected him to break the spell with one of his mocking comments, but instead she felt his arm circling her waist.

"Sherlock…", she whispered.

"What?"

"No… it's nothing."

He gently put a finger under her chin and lifted her face.

"Tell me."

She tried to pick up her courage, but the words she had rehearsed a thousand times in her mind were failing her again.

"I just wanted to tell you that… I mean, I've been wanting to tell you for a long time that… I really like being with you. I always did but… now I that know you better… I just like it even more."

Molly bit her lip and looked away, not wanting to see his reaction. This was officially the most awkward declaration, _ever_.

"I like being with you too", answered Sherlock. He passed a hand though her hair and turned her face towards him again.

"Really?", she murmured.

He remained silent but there was a sweetness in his blue eyes she had never seen before. She leaned and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, just like the one he had given her on Christmas. Sherlock didn't protest so Molly became bolder and this time, her lips gently brushed against his.

^/^

_**A thousand thanks to all of you who reviewed or subscribed to this story. It is a fantastic motivation! Also, I've learnt thanks to Nocturnias comment that "Secrets" won a SAMFA which is an award for Sherlolly fics. I had no idea ! So again, a huge thanks to the voters, I still can't believe it !**_

_**I hope you will enjoy this new chapter, as Sherlock and Molly are finally getting closer and closer. For those who wonder, the "Rose Monologue" is directly inspired from ACD's Canon ("The Naval Treaty"). My version is different, but I always thought it was one of those rare moments in which we see a complete different side of Holmes' personality.**_

_**I am looking forward to writing the next chapter, even if it will be pretty dark in some aspects…**_


	9. Secrets

**Chapter 9**

_**So… many apologizes about being so long again. But I'm really happy to finally deliver this new chapter.**_

_**As I said last time, this one is much darker than the precedent. And I must warn you that there is some mention of some possibly triggery issues*. But I didn't change the rating as there is really nothing graphic.**_

_**I hope you still enjoy the story, and please review ^^.**_

_**(*Spoilers : child sexual abuse, domestic violence, abortion, drug use).**_

Sherlock and Molly's relationship definitely took a new turn after their first kiss in the park. Molly was in heaven, her dreams finally becoming reality. She hadn't been so happy in a very long time. Maybe this was even the happier she had ever been. Every morning she was feeling like a 15 year old before a first date. And the whole situation looked indeed like a teenage romance.

They both decided it was better to keep it a secret for the moment. Hopefully Mycroft was still travelling, but Sherlock knew that the staff would inform him immediately of this new_ situation_. And the last thing he wanted was to receive a phone call from his brother lecturing him about his love life. The only one to be in the loop was Helen, the elder nurse of the staff who always had a soft spot for Molly. Britain was going through a real heat wave that summer, so they had to cancel their walks in the park and take refuge in Sherlock's room which had air conditioning. Helen would make sure that no one would disturb the new couple.

Sherlock's bed being large enough for two, Molly had taken the habit of joining him for an afternoon nap. That particular day was so hot that she had stripped off of her jeans, wearing only her knickers and a tank top. This was the more intimate situation they had been in so far. In fact, after being together for 10 days, they hadn't gone past kissing and it seemed that none of them dared to take things further. Molly had done a bit of research about sexuality for paraplegics. She knew this wouldn't be easy and she could easily imagine that Sherlock would be a bit apprehensive about it.

The kisses were becoming more heated. Initially, she had the sensation that he had little experience in that area, but he was starting to be really good. Quick learner, she wasn't surprised. Instinctively, her hand made her way under his shirt and her fingers brushed against his stomach. She felt him tense at her touch and he pulled out of the kiss.

"It's fine", whispered Molly, "there's no rush".

He looked embarrassed, staring at the wall to avoid her gaze.

"I just want to be with you", she added, placing a tender kiss along his jaw. He finally looked back her and she gave him the most adorable smile. He remained silent for a moment, almost mesmerized.

"What you are you looking at?", she asked.

"You. You are beautiful".

She looked beautiful indeed, her skin slightly tanned from the hours they had spent in the sun. Simple and fresh, like a flower. Sherlock removed the elastic holding her hair and passed his hand in it, it felt softer than silk. He carefully pushed away the lock of hair falling on her forehead, revealing a white scar just below her hair line. He gently passed his finger on it.

"Who did that to you?", he inquired.

"What?"

"That scar. Who was it?"

This time it was Molly's turn to look uncomfortable.

"That…Oh nobody it was a bike accident."

"Molly…" he sighed, "You know it's no use lying to me."

"But I'm not lying!"

Sherlock closed his eyes and mumbled, "Don't make me do this…". When he reopened them she was still staring back at him with an expression between surprise and indignation.

"I was slow…", he started. "It was there in front of me all those years but I understood only a few weeks ago. You had even told it to me. _I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you. _And you do know what that means, right? The unimpressive clothes, the way you keep apologizing for everything and why you always choose such elaborate hairstyles when you look much better with your hair down. Then there is your very interesting choice of boyfriend. Amongst all the men crossing Bart's doors you end up with a criminal mastermind. A bit of pattern don't you think? Because before him there has been another man, the one who made you that scar. Did you date him because he reminded you of your brother? Who kept bringing you down. Or maybe even of your father?"

"My father was nothing like that!", she exclaimed. "And you're being cruel. I don't know what you're talking about."

Molly turned away to the other side of the bed, feeling mortified. Why did he have to speak about that and spoil everything? And how could she have been stupid enough to think she could hide anything from him? She briefly considered running away but she was paralyzed by fear. It was Sherlock who suddenly broke the heavy silence:

« When I was ten… », he started. "My parents hired a private tutor to teach me at home. I had been expelled from a few schools because of my _antisocial __behaviour_. Anyway, they hired this guy who had an excellent resume and had taught at Oxford. That should have caught their attention in the first place, why would an Oxford teacher want to become a private tutor? But they didn't consider necessary to do a background check."

Molly wondered why he was counting her this story, but she had an unpleasant feeling about it. She hesitated for a moment and turned back to face him. His hands were pressed together under his chin, as if praying.

Sherlock continued: "His name was Paul Carter. He made a good impression, he was smart and most of all I liked him. He was completely different than any of the teachers I had at school. He never gave me any textbook or silly exercises. Everything I learnt I had to discover it by myself, by making experiments. He was brilliant and interesting and I was fascinated. Everything was doing well until one night he came into my room and decided that he wanted to teach me about something else."

Molly's jaws dropped in horror.

"Did he…?"

"… Rape me? No. However there is no doubt what he did could be classified as pedophilia. He told me I was special and I that I shouldn't tell anyone because people wouldn't understand. I hated it, and I guess that somehow I knew it was wrong. But I trusted him so I didn't say anything."

"You were only ten, of course you trusted him! What about your family, nobody noticed anything?"

"As I said my father was rarely at home. And my mother was depressive, she was often under heavy medication. It was Mycroft who found out. He came back from University at the end of terms and it didn't take him long to suspect something. He caught him red-handed. My brother told me to go and hide into his room and he stayed with him. I don't know what really happened that night, but the following day Carter resigned and left."

"You parents didn't press charges?"

"My parents never knew about it. Mycroft thought it was better to spare our mother. And a trial could have been damageable for my father's political career. So it remained our secret. We never talked about it again. Except one time, a few years later, Mycroft told me that Carter had been taken care of. Apparently an unexplained car accident."

He had said those last words with a grin but she could see a single tear falling down his cheek. Molly felt her hear sink.

"Sherlock I'm so sorry", she whispered, hardly holding back her own tears. "I had no idea…"

"I had never told anyone. Well, except Mycroft."

"This is wrong, what you brother did. There should have been a trial, you needed it. He let that guy walk away freely, maybe he had the time to do it to another child before… whatever happened to him."

"Mycroft was only seventeen… I know he still feels guilty about it. That's why he's being overprotective now and has the detestable habit of constantly meddling with my life."

Molly completely forgot about their previous argument and rested her head against Sherlock's chest. His heart was pounding but she felt it slowly coming back to its normal pace. Her fingers were tracing light patterns on one of his hands. Molly was still shook up about what she had learnt. It explained a lot about Sherlock's behaviour, but it also raised a lot of interrogations in her mind. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, her curiosity was stronger.

"Sherlock… can I ask you a question?"

"Yes"

"Did you… ever had a relationship before? I remember this woman, Irene Adler. And I'm sorry she died by the way."

"There was nothing with Irene, it was a just a game between us. She preferred women and I wasn't interested in the kind of services she provided. But if your real question was _did you ever had sex_, then the answer is yes. _Did I enjoy it? _Not particularly."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be indiscreet. I'm only asking because I don't want to do anything you would be… uncomfortable with."

"Sex doesn't make me uncomfortable. But I can hardly see the point of it, especially in my situation now."

"Well… it can be something beautiful to share when you love somebody. You said you didn't enjoy it, why? What happened?"

"There was this girl in my class in high school. Apparently she already had a lot of experience in that area. I was curious so I decided to give it a try. Seducing her turned out to be very easy indeed, I didn't even need to take her to the movies."

"And then?"

"I got nervous, she said it was terrible."

"Ok, so she was a bitch."

"Molly Hooper!"

"What? It's normal to be nervous on your first time. And generally it's never that good. She shouldn't have told you that. And you can definitely not judge from that experience."

"There was a boy too… In Uni. His name was Victor. He actually owned the dog which bite me, that's how we became friends. He was gay. I wasn't particularly attracted to men but it was another experiment. And I already knew about Mycroft so I thought it might… run in the family. We ended up sharing a bed a few times. Actually we didn't do much, because Victor was more interested in drugs than sex. He introduced me to the wonders of morphine and cocaine. The sex was somehow pleasurable but mostly because I was high. One day Victor left Uni and moved abroad. Mycroft put me in rehab. I classified the whole sex experiment as inconclusive and I never bothered trying it again."

Molly remained speechless.

"You're shocked", he said.

"No, no, I'm not shocked."

"Then you're disappointed."

"No", she shook her head. "I told you, I just want to be with you. If you don't want to have sex, then it's fine for me. But I you want to give it another try then I'm here for you."

"Molly, even I wanted to… you know I can't."

"I've been… reading on the subject, actually it's not impossible. We could try and if it doesn't work then we could see with your doctor. There are solutions. And I also think it would be good if you could talk to a professional about what happened to you as a child. I've heard there is an excellent psychotherapist at the hospital."

"I don't know."

"You know what? Let's take our time. I'm already so proud of you." She gave him a kiss on the cheek before putting back her head on his chest.

"And you were right, it wasn't a bike accident."

"I'm always right. What was his name?"

"David. David Sheppard. He was my boyfriend at Edinburgh medical school. Handsome, good family, brilliant surgery student. The kind of guy all the girls were dreaming of. I was madly in love with him."

"But he wasn't such a prince charming after all?"

"I got pregnant. It was an accident, but I thought we could make it work. Except David didn't see things this way. He said that we were too young, and we should wait to be settled in life. After we graduate, we could get married and start a family. I wanted that baby. But I let him convince me and I got an abortion."

Sherlock didn't say a word but he felt anger rising in him.

"We graduated and we moved in together. I was hoping he would propose. But instead he started to change. At first it was little details, like complaining that I didn't clean the flat properly. Then he started to talk bad to me, and finally he slapped me because I broke a glass in the kitchen. He apologised, he said that he was under a lot of stress at work. He was nicer for a while, he would bring me flowers and take me out to dinner. I forgave him. But then of course it started again. One day I had the courage to stand up. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my face against the wall. That's how I got this scar. The morning after, when he had gone to work, I packed a bag and left. I was so afraid that I never dared to come back to pick up the rest of my things. I left Edinburgh and moved to London. That was two years before you and I first met at Bart's. That's it, you know everything."

Molly felt a huge weight drop off her shoulders. She was waiting anxiously for Sherlock's reaction.

"That David Sheppard…", he said. "If you want we could give his name to Mycroft."

"No!", she exclaimed. "No, that's the past. That's why I didn't want to speak about it. It's behind me, I don't care."

"Alright. Molly… I want you to know that I'm not like that. I may have many flaws but I would never do such a thing."

"I know", she reassured him.

"Good. But you to need stand up for yourself. Don't let men talk to you this way. Don't let me talk to you this way. If I cross the line you have to tell me to shut up! Otherwise, you know I won't."

"I'll keep that in mind. Pity I don't have a recorder with me."

"Of course I'll deny I ever said that."

Her crystalline laugh filled the room. Molly was so tiny in his arms, so fragile. Sherlock felt like he could kill anyone who would want ever want to harm her. He stored David Sheppard's name somewhere in his mind palace. He would decide later what was to be done with him.

"And Molly?"

"Yes ?"

"It seems that my opinion on sex requires additional experimentation. Consider the case reopened."


	10. Waking up

_**Hello everybody,**_

_**Here is finally another chapter! I'm sorry I'm just really slow!**_

_**I hope you enjoy it and don't forget to review ;-)**_

**Chapter 10**

It's not morning yet but Sherlock is awake. He is currently focusing on a fascinating subject: how the heartbeats of two individuals tend to synchronize after they spend a prolonged period of time close to each other.

For the first time Molly has agreed to stay with him for the night. She will have to leave at dawn, but for the moment his Cinderella is sleeping peacefully next to him. She's wearing one the T-Shirts he uses for physiotherapy. His designer clothes being one of the many things he had to give up from his former life.

He didn't see her naked, she went to change in the bathroom. Molly keeps saying that it is better to go step by step, that she doesn't want to rush him. But the idea of getting into a physical relationship is making its way into his mind. It's more about curiosity than actual sexual desire. He is curious to know if the once shy and mousy Molly Hooper will surprise him in that area as well. Curious to see if after months of suffering he can actually experience a bit of pleasure. But he's also nervous that his body won't react the expected way. Or that unpleasant memories come back to haunt him. Mycroft was right, sex does alarm him.

He tried to delete any memory of Carter and what it did to him as a child, but it turned out to be slightly more complicated than the solar system. So he built his mind palace and placed those thoughts in a very remote room, one he hardly ever visits. It doesn't prevent the nightmares and there had been a couple of times when John had asked if there was anything he wanted to talk about. He didn't have the courage to tell the truth to his friend, but now he had given Molly the key to this secret room in his mind. And he felt surprisingly relieved. There was something about the look in her eyes which had an almost healing power over him.

He had buried any hope of a relationship years ago. Not that he ever really desired one in the first place. His body was just transport, his brain was the only thing that counted. And his heart… well it was a pretty established fact that he didn't have one. But now it seemed that his whole word had been turned upside down. Sometimes he even wonders if he didn't actually die on that day and came back to life as another person. His transport has been seriously damaged, and it matters to him much more than he pretends. His brain is still there, but it is useless in the absence of any interesting work. And his heart is beating along with Molly Hooper's one.

Molly is nothing like Amanda, his only high school conquest, or Victor and even less Irene. She's pure and sometimes too naïve for her own good. She is also damaged, just like him. But she still has the capacity to hope that better days will come. She could have run away now that he isn't the prince charming who used to dash into her lab anymore. Instead of that, she remained with him through every ordeal. Molly's adoration is the only thing left of his glory days. All this years, she had been close to him and he had been blind. Now he knows that she is his only chance of happiness. The problem is that he doesn't know how to tell her. John would know. John knew everything about women.

^/^

Sherlock thoughts were interrupted when Molly started to wake up. The first ray of lights were peering through the curtains.

"What time is it?", she asked with a sleepy voice.

"6:30"

"I have to go…"

"It's fine. Clancy won't be there before another forty five minutes."

Miss Clancy was the head nurse of department. She was also a military officer and paid a special attention to the respect of rules and procedures. Sherlock seemed to be taking great delight in driving her mad. But if she found out that Molly had spent the night in his bed, she would immediately write a report to her superiors, which meant Mycroft.

"Are you sure?", she inquired.

"Certain, her schedule is as regular as clockwork."

Molly relaxed and smile.

"I like to wake up next you" she whispered and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Isn't it great? Waking up in a hospital room?"

Molly's smile faded a little bit. "It won't always be like that. You have only two more weeks left here, it will come quickly."

"And then I will go to another facility for who knows how many months…"

"A rehabilitation centre, it will be different. You will be doing sports and plenty of activities."

"Like what? Pottery?", he snorted.

"I don't know! I just think it will be good for you to see other places and faces."

"What about afterwards? Will I just hide in a rat hole until we get a hand on Moriarty's network?"

This time Molly hesitated before answering. The future was for sure uncertain, even for her. Mycroft had hired her in order to help Sherlock through his recovery. What would happen after it?

"Well… maybe you brother will come back from his trip with some good news?"

Sherlock remained silent, and Molly noticed that his eyes were a bit lost. It had been almost three weeks since Mycroft had left to South America, following Moran's track. But so far he had sent them nothing concerning the progress of his investigations.

"Whatever happens, you know I'll stay with you", she added.

He looked back at her, his gaze now as piercing as ever.

"What are you staring at?"

"This T-Shirt you're wearing, it's absolutely hideous."

"It's yours!"

"This is not an excuse Miss Hooper", he said seductively.

"Do you want me… to take it off?"

"I think it is necessary."

Molly grinned. If he was ready for more, she was more than willing to play along. She sat up, straddled him and slowly pulled the shirt off over her head, leaving Sherlock speechless. The room was still half dark but he could see the lines of her almost naked body. Her long hair was falling graciously over her shoulders. He noted that her pupils were dilated and her breathing was accelerating.

"I…", he started hesitantly. "I take off anything I previously said concerning your breasts. They are… perfectly proportioned."

"Thank you", she said with a giggle. She could feel his eyes on her, cataloging every curve of her body, but he didn't dare to make a move.

"You can touch if you want", she suggested.

"Show me", he whispered.

She gently took his hand and placed against her left breast. She let him experiment the sensation then guided his fingers over her nipple. He quickly understood it was a sensitive spot.

"I let you continue on your own. You're doing very good".

She bent down to kiss him, letting out a moan in his mouth. She wished the moment had last forever, but they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. Without even waiting for answer, the visitor entered the room. Molly immediately grabbed the sheet to cover herself and was already ready to mutter an explanation to Miss Clancy. But she became livid when she realised it wasn't the nurse.

Mycroft Holmes was standing at the door.


	11. Dreams & Nightmares

**Chapter 11**

_**Sorry for the cliffhanger and the long wait… I rewrote several times some parts of this chapter because it was an important one.**_

_**Again many many thanks for your kind reviews. You are fantastic! Please don't stop !**_

_**And for **__**Lucy36**__** who asked me "why a book about bees ?", it is because it Conan Doyle's Canon Sherlock becomes a beekeeper after retiring from detective work. I always found it quite amusing and I wondered where it came from.**_

_**I hope you enjoy this… pretty angsty chapter!**_

_**^/^**_

Mycroft didn't say a word. His look didn't express any surprise but Molly almost shivered when his eyes crossed hers. Then, he simply closed the door and left the room which seemed suddenly filled with cold air. No wonder Moriarty had nicknamed him "The Iceman".

Molly was still holding the sheet close to her in a desperate attempt to hide herself. It took her a moment before daring to move again.

"Oh my god… this is so embarrassing! I can't believe he saw that, I'm never going to be able to talk to him ever again!", she exclaimed.

Sherlock grinned.

"This is not funny! I'm absolutely mortified!"

"Well… see the positive side of the situation, now we don't have to look for the best way to break the news anymore. And I believe Mycroft is even more embarrassed than you are as this is probably his first experience of female nudity."

Molly sighed and looked for her shirt. She knew that the situation highly amused Sherlock who was always looking for a new way to annoy his brother. But she was afraid Mycroft wouldn't be so pleased about this turn of events.

She got out of the bed and got dressed.

"So my lesson is over?", asked Sherlock innocently.

"I have to go home. I don't want another of those incidents to happen."

"I was having fun."

"I'll be back this afternoon", replied Molly, softening a little bit.

Sherlock seemed to think for a moment.

"You know… maybe you should stay at home for today. I'll have a lot to talk about with my brother. About Moran and the latest developments."

"Are you sure? What about your lunch?"

"It's fine. Don't think I am underestimating your culinary talents but I think I will survive without them for one day."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then, be nice". She placed a kiss on his cheek and grabbed her purse.

"I'm always nice!", he replied with a smirk.

It was still early and the corridors of the hospital were quiet. Molly walked quickly as she feared to cross a nurse, or worse, Mycroft. But hopefully he was nowhere to be seen. She sighed in relief when she reached her car on the parking lot. Once at home, she fed her cat then went directly to bed and buried her head under a pillow. This had been officially the most awkward moment of her life.

^/^

When Molly woke up from her nap, it was already 2 PM. She hadn't intended to sleep for so long, but the realised she needed some rest. Actually she was glad Sherlock had told her to stay at home. For the past months, she had visited him daily. And even if she cherished every moment spent with him, it felt good to have a little bit of time for herself. It also conveniently delayed the moment when she would have to face Mycroft.

She decided not think about it for the moment, and took advantage of her free time to clean her flat. She baked a cake that she would bring to Sherlock the following day, then watched TV while doing her nails. Finally she took a hot bath with a lot of foam, and even added a few candles to perfect the deliciously relaxing atmosphere. Her mind started to wander and she caught herself thinking about what had happened in the morning. This time it made her giggle. Of course it had been embarrassing, but it would be a funny memory to laugh about afterwards.

It was pity they had been interrupted though and she couldn't wait for another opportunity to share such an intimate moment with Sherlock, to feel his hands on her body again. She closed her eyes and let her hand wander between her tights.

Later, comfortably settled in bed with Toby on her side, she tried to imagine what the future held for her. What would be life with Sherlock after the hospital? Maybe they could move in together in a nice little house? Live a happy and discreet life while waiting for Moriarty's network to be dismantled. Then the day would come when the truth would be revealed and Sherlock's name would be cleared. They would come back to London. For sure it would be a shock for John and all their friends, even more when they would learn about their relationship. But they would be happy for them. Yes, the future looked bright and that night Molly Hooper's sleep was filled with pleasant dreams.

Sadly sometimes reality is a harsh wake up call.

^/^

It was 8:30 the following morning when Molly heard the sound of the bell ringing. She wasn't expecting any visitor at this early hour and was still in her pyjamas. She went to the door and looked through the Judas hole. It was Mycroft.

She knew it didn't mean any good. Molly considered not answering but it wouldn't solve the problem. She would have to endure that conversation anyway so the sooner the better.

"Yes, one moment please!", she yelled.

She went to change and came back wearing a pair of jeans and a flowery sweater. A much more decent outfit than on their last encounter. She took a deep breath, undid the locker and opened the door.

Mycroft was standing in front of her, leaning against him usual umbrella.

"Good morning, Miss Hooper. Please apologise for this early visit but I am on a busy schedule."

"No… no it's fine, I was just about to have breakfast."

"Good. Do you mind if I join you for a cup of coffee then?" As usual, he exhaled authority in spite of his apparent cordiality.

"No, of course please come in", she mumbled.

Mycroft made his way in and sat at the table of Molly's little kitchen. She served coffee for both of them

"There's… sugar if you want some", she suggested

"No thank you", he replied with a forced smile.

Molly remembered Sherlock once telling her that Mycroft had been obese until the age of 20. He had done a drastic diet but was still carefully avoiding calories. Offering him sugar? Good one, Sherlock would be proud of her.

The older Holmes took a sip of coffee and looked at her thoughtfully. Molly was looking at her nails, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

"Miss Hooper", he started, "my time is precious so I will go straight to the point. I am here to ask you to put an end to your relationship with my brother."

She looked at him in shock, but was unable to answer so he continued.

"When I offered you this position, you told me you weren't expecting anything from my brother. I made it clear to you that he was unable to engage into any kind of romantic relationship. Now I come back from my trip and find out that you have not only broken my trust but you were able to have sexual relations inside an hospital!"

He had pronounced those last words with undisguised anger. Molly was almost paralyzed by fear and embarrassment.

"I… I understand it was inappropriate and I'm deeply sorry you had to find out this way. It's true I wasn't expecting anything to happen between Sherlock and I but… things changed. We spent a lot time together. We learned to know each other in a complete different way. It's still very new but I want you to know that I'm completely sincere about it. All I want is Sherlock to be happy."

Mycroft's eyes softened a little bit.

"Then we have this in common. Molly… all I'm trying to do is spare you and Sherlock a cruel disillusion. I think you are both in this relationship for the wrong reasons. He is lost and he's clinging up to the last thing which connects him to who he used to be, you. And you feel guilty so you're being delusional about your own feelings."

"I don't feel guilty, I love him."

Mycroft sighed. "Molly, you are a brave young woman, with a lot of qualities. But it is a pity you tend to lack of judgment when it comes to your relationships. You have a regrettable tendency to choose the wrong men and Sherlock is no exception."

How could Mycroft know about her personal history? A disturbing idea crossed Molly's mind. With his position he could certainly find out anything about anybody. He had probably researched her years ago, maybe ever since she had started to work with Sherlock. He knew about every intimate detail of her life, about David and even her abortion. She felt disgusted.

"This is none of your business!", she exclaimed. "You don't know who I am and I'm not taking advice from you. Sherlock and I don't need your blessing to see each other. He's not a child anymore."

Molly was surprised at her own outburst, but it had felt good. Mycroft remained impassive. He placed his hands beneath his chin in a prayer position, as she had seen Sherlock doing on countless occasions.

"He told you what happened to him, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"I swore from that day on that I would protect him. And despite my efforts I haven't been doing a very good job. My little brother is in a wheelchair. The Moran's trail went cold. Sherlock will have to go into hiding for God knows how many more months or years ! He doesn't need more suffering."

"I don't understand, you think I'll make him suffer?"

"I think this relationship is doomed to failure. Oh of course for the moment everything is bright and shiny. But it won't be always like that. One day you will start realising that you are stuck with a disabled man who cannot make you happy. You think my brother is capable love? What he loves is seeing himself through your eyes because it is the last thing which connect him to who he used to be. And when he will see that even this is gone, he will grow cold and hurtful. You will stay with him out of pity, and he will abhor you even more for that."

"Stop!", interrupted Molly. "I've heard enough, I want you to leave." She stood up to show Mycroft their conversation had reached an end.

"Please, go now", she insisted.

"Very well", said Mycroft. He seized his umbrella and slowly headed out. He turned around before crossing the door to speak one last time:

"Please take time to think about it with a clear head."

"I don't need to think about it. On the contrary it's one of the first time in my life on which I know exactly what I want."

"Good bye Miss Hooper", answered Mycroft coldly.

"Good bye".

She slammed the door behind him and put her hand on her mouth to prevent herself from shouting.

^/^

The following hours seemed to last an eternity. Yes, Molly knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be in Sherlock's arms, tell him everything that had happened. They would rant together against Mycroft, and she would finally tell Sherlock that she loved him. He would probably just answer "ok", but that was fine with her.

At 11AM she was ready to go and pacing like a caged lion. The hospital was only 20 minutes away and she wasn't supposed to show up before noon but she couldn't wait anymore. She packed the meal and the cake she had prepared for Sherlock and left. During the short car ride, she felt a knot growing in her stomach, like a bad premonition.

Molly parked her car on her usual spot and entered the building. She headed to the wing where Sherlock's room was located. It was a high security area with restricted access. She slid her access card into the reader. The screen flashed red and read "Access Denied".

"Oh", muttered Molly.

One of the hospital guards approached her: "Can I help you Miss ?"

"Yes indeed. I think there is a problem with my card, it's not working. Maybe I'm too early? Normally I don't come before noon but today I was a bit in a hurry."

The guard took her card and passed it in his own portable reader.

"I am sorry Miss, but it seems your access has been cancelled".

"Cancelled? No, it must be a mistake. I come here every day, you've seen me before".

"Miss Hooper, this is a restricted area and I am afraid you do not have the necessary authorization anymore. I am going to have to ask you to leave."

"What ? No no, I swear this is a mistake. Please call your boss."

"Those orders come from the highest authority".

Molly's blood froze. She knew this could mean only one name, _Mycroft_.

She felt a sharp pain in her chest. This couldn't be real, he couldn't take Sherlock away from her. As the guard was about to bring her back to the door and tears were starting to roll on her cheeks, the sight of a familiar figure gave her a sudden glimmer of hope. It was Helen, the nurse.

"Helen!", she called. "They're not letting me see him, what's going on?"

The old woman looked at her with a painful expression.

"I am sorry Molly, I'm so sorry…"

"Please", pleaded Molly, "I need to talk to him, please let me talk to him!"

Helen turned to the guard "Sergeant Doyle, I know this young lady, please make an exception."

"I can't, I have orders…"

"Just 5 minutes. I take it as my responsibility."

The guard seemed to be hesitating for a moment. He looked at Helen, then at Molly whose frail body was being shaken by heavy sobs.

"5 minutes not one more, and I'm coming in with her", he finally conceded.

"Thank you!"

She tried to wipe away her tears to look more presentable and followed the guard. Helen gently patted her shoulder in encouragement.

When she arrived in front of Sherlock's room, the door was close. Sergeant Doyle sighed and handed her his access card.

"I'm taking big risks because of you", he whispered.

"I promise I'll be quick".

When she opened the door Molly saw Sherlock in his wheelchair, looking outside by the window. She was going to run towards him but her blood froze when she realised he was not alone. Mycroft was there too, standing in the corner like a vulture.

"What is going on?", she cried. "You blocked my access to the hospital, you think you can send me away like this?"

Mycroft remained silent and Sherlock didn't move.

"Sherlock !", she called out.

"Miss Hooper", started Mycroft, "as you understood your services are longer required here. It is logical then that your access has been deactivated. You will continue to perceive your salary as long as you find another suitable position and you can stay at the flat until then. Considering the circumstances, I believe I am being particularly generous."

This was a nightmare and she was going wake up. Maybe she was still sleeping in Sherlock's arms and she had dreamed the whole scene. She looked at Sherlock again, immobile by the window, his back still turned to her. Why wasn't he talking? Why wasn't he defending her? This wasn't making any sense. Except…

Except if Mycroft had talked to him too.

"Sherlock! Sherlock look at me! Your brother is trying to separate us. He came to my flat this morning and asked me to leave you. I don't know what lies he told you about me but… I love you! I would never leave you! Just talk to him and tell him this is crazy!"

Molly thought her heart was going to explode in her chest. Sherlock finally turned around to face her. But it seemed as if she was looking at a stranger. His blue eyes were cold and empty. He didn't even look at her and spoke directly to the guard. He pronounced her sentence in three little words:

"Make her leave."

"Oh… and Sergeant Doyle", added Mycroft, "you are fired".


	12. Alone

**Chapter 12**

_**Sorry for the wait I've just been… well procrastinating a lot! But here is finally another chapter. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for your always fantastic reviews. I love to hear about what you think!**_

^/^

« What happened… how did I get here? »

"I'm sorry darling. I had to give you something to calm you down. It's alright now, you're in your flat, in your own bed."

Molly looked around her, she was indeed in her bedroom. And Helen the nurse was at her bedside. Her head hurt like hell and she knew something was terribly wrong. Suddenly she remembered what had happened at the hospital and the blackout that had followed. A wave of anger washed over her.

"He left me… he sent me away right? He treated me like a dog! How could he do that to me? I hate him… him and his brother. I hate him, I hate him!"

"You love him. Which is the same in many ways."

"He used me. Like all the other men I knew before him. I was just a distraction for him, that's all. Now he doesn't need me anymore so he's sending me away."

She buried her face in her pillow and started to cry.

Helen gently ran her fingers through her hair. "Molly… shh Molly listen to me. I'm an old woman. I have a long experience of life and I can tell when I see two people falling in love. I don't think Sherlock used you. I spent a lot of time with him too, you know. Especially during my night shifts. People are different at night, they are more likely to… open up. I saw him crying a couple of times. I had some interesting conversations with him as well."

Molly looked up to Helen, tears still running down her cheeks.

"Yes", continued the nurse, "we even spoke about you sometimes."

"What did he say?"

"He told me you saved his life. I think… he was asking himself a lot of questions. About his life once he would leave the hospital, about your relationship…"

"Then he should have talked to me!"

"Look, I don't know if it has anything to do with it but his brother came to talk to him this morning. I came in for Sherlock's morning care but Mycroft asked me to come back later because they were having a private conversation."

"What time was it?"

"I don't know… about 10 AM."

"He came to see me too earlier this morning. He had found out about Sherlock and I yesterday and he asked me to end our relationship. I refused…"

"… And right after he went to talk to Sherlock", finished Helen.

Molly nodded. "I was hoping he would stand up for me. It's just so weird he… never listens to his brother. Actually he would do anything just to prove him wrong. But this time… it only took a few words from Mycroft to delete everything we shared. I don't know what to do Helen. I'm not even allowed to see him anymore! I gave up everything for him, I thought he had changed, I though… we could be happy together and now…"

She collapsed once again into heavy sobs.

"I know it hurts darling, I know", whispered Helen, "but don't lose hope".

"There's no hope anymore".

"There's always hope. You're alive, you're in good health. Every day I see people at the hospital who have all reasons to lose hope. But they don't give up. You're still young…"

"I'm 33…"

"That's what I said. You're a pretty young woman with a kind heart and a good mind. If Sherlock cannot see that then he doesn't deserve you and you can find better than him."

"I don't want anyone else."

"I thought you hated him?"

"I don't know what I want anymore…"

"I think you need some rest. I fed your cat and I left some food for you in the fridge. I'll come back to see you tomorrow, please take care of yourself. Here is my number, call me if you need anything."

"Thank you Helen, you're a saint. I don't know what to say… You'll probably get in trouble for helping me. I already feel so sorry for that poor Sergeant Doyle"

"Oh don't worry dear, I resigned from the hospital this morning. And I gave a piece of my mind to Mr Mycroft Holmes. I had been wanting to do so for a while. »

^/^

Helen came back to see Molly every day the following week, bringing her some food, trying to persuade her to go out for a walk. In a way it wasn't much different than her work at the hospital. She knew that broken hearts were hard to cure, and Molly Hooper's one had been broken into a million pieces.

She would stay in bed most of the day, crying or watching some stupid shows on TV. She couldn't help thinking over and over again about it. For sure, something must have happened between the moment she left Sherlock after their night together and their last encounter. Was it really Mycroft's words which made him change his mind? Or maybe something she could have said or done? The more she was trying to find an answer, the more she was getting lost.

A few times she considered getting revenge. She could contact the press and tell them the whole story. How Sherlock had faked his death with her help and was hiding somewhere. But it would put him in danger and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

On other days she would go back close to the hospital and try to look into the park to see if she could see him. But she never did. The trees had lost their leaves and the summer days when they shared their first kisses seemed long gone.

She knew she had to do something otherwise she would fall into depression. She remembered her father's motto: _"the only place to go when you hit rock bottom is up". _In the past, she had always found the strength to move on. But this time it was different, her life was devastated. She had resigned from Bart's and left her flat. Everybody believed her to be in Brighton, and Sherlock had been officially dead for four months.

Maybe she should indeed leave London, or even England, and start looking for another pathologist position. But she didn't feel ready for it, like if she was still waiting for some kind of miracle to happen. Mycroft had kept his words. He let her stay in the flat and the money was still paid into her bank account every month. She didn't like to depend on him but it was her only option for the moment.

One day she saw an ad in the local newspaper about a cat shelter looking for some volunteers. She decided to apply and started to work there a few hours per week. It wasn't much but at least it forced her to get out of bed and have some sort of social interaction, even if she preferred the company of animals rather than people. There was no doubt she would soon turn into one of those crazy cat ladies.

^/^

Time passed and softened the pain. On the sixth month anniversary of Sherlock's death, she gave a call to Mrs Hudson. She learnt that John had taken a job at a GP practice in Kensington and Lestrade had been reintegrated into the Yard after an internal investigation. Life was going on.

She often wondered about Sherlock. Where was he now and what was he up to? She knew he was supposed to go a rehabilitation center after leaving the hospital. Did he miss her? Did he ever think of her? Or had he deleted her completely?

She received the answer one day of November as she came back from the grocery store. She opened her mailbox. It was generally filled only with commercials as nobody had her address. But this time there was a letter, or rather a postcard. She dropped her shopping bags to the floor, and took the card to examine it.

It was from Meiringen, Switzerland, and had only one word written on the back:

"Bored".


	13. Meiringen

**Chapter 13**

Molly climbed the stairs up to her flat, dropped her bags on the kitchen's table and settled on her sofa to have a closer look at the postcard.

It featured a peaceful Swiss little town called Meiringen, and had been posted a few days earlier in Switzerland. She read again the single word written on it: "Bored". There wasn't any signature but she easily recognized Sherlock's handwriting and laconic style.

A quick Google search taught her that Meiringen was indeed located in the Swiss Alps, close to Interlaken. It was famous for being close to the Reichenbach Falls (the name sounded vaguely familiar), but also hosted a military airfield and… a spinal cord rehabilitation center.

Having no more doubts about the identity of the sender, Molly's first reaction was to tear up the card and put it in the trash. How dared he? After humiliating her like he did at the hospital, he thought he had the right to contact her just because he ran out of other activities? What did he expect? That she would take the first flight and show up like if nothing happened? No, this time she would be strong and she wouldn't give in.

^/^

Half a bottle of wine and a tissue box later, she picked up the card back and tried to mend it with tape. Sherlock had written her. This was the sign she had been waiting for, the reason why she hadn't moved on yet. This meant he still thought about her. Perhaps Mycroft had forced him to break up with her and then had sent him to Switzerland against his will? But Sherlock did little things against his will… maybe this time he really didn't have the choice? Being officially dead he needed Mycroft's help to obtain false documents and a cover?

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound a text message on her mobile phone. Those, as letters, were rare those days. This one was coming from an unknown number, with an international prefix. Switzerland maybe? Her hands trembling a little bit, she took a deep breath before opening it:

"If my calculations are correct, my card should have arrived today."

A second, then a third message arrived before she didn't even have the time to…

"No I didn't I steal the phone, it is mine. Apparently I am allowed to own one now."

"I can also have visitors."

Molly couldn't believe it. Sherlock was indeed back in to her life, and he seemed as invasive as before. Any normal human being would have started with an apology. But not Mr Sherlock Holmes.

Having absolutely no idea what to do, she decided to finish the other half of the wine bottle. After hesitating a long time between texting back: "I love you" or "Fuck off", she went for the second option. She also added: "I'm busy, try to call someone else. Oh sorry you can't, well too bad!". Then, quite happy with herself, she shut down her mobile and fell asleep almost instantly on her living room's carpet.

^/^

When Molly woke up the next morning, she had a terrible headache and 64 unread messages. She knew Sherlock had a passion for texting, but this time he had surpassed himself.

"Molly, this is rude."

"However you're right, my phone book is a bit limited those days."

"But alcohol won't solve anything."

"Red wine I presume?"

"I take it you're ignoring me."

"Or you're more probably, asleep."

"And not in your bed."

"I guess it should have been more appropriate to start with an apology?"

"So here you are: I am sorry."

"And bored."

"Come to see me."

"It's snowing here."

"The center has no pottery classes, I am bitterly disappointed."

"But I am swimming a lot."

"This means I have quite impressive biceps."

"I imagine this is something you would fancy."

"I listened to the songs you left on my Ipod."

"I am afraid Celine Dion caused irremediable damages to my eardrums."

"Come I want to talk to you."

And the list was going on and on. She couldn't help crying as she read them, but also had some good laughs. By the times she could tell he had been texting all night long. The last message had been sent at 5 AM and said:

"I had my reasons but I cannot forgive myself. I hope one day you can."

There were no more messages after this one.

She read them over and over again, but she couldn't bring herself to send an answer. She felt a bit guilty as he was probably waiting for one. Part of her wanted to jump in the first plane and join him, but a little voice in her head was also telling her that she should try to forget him completely. She had suffered so much because him. Not just now, but all those years while he had been ignoring her or playing with her feelings. Why would it be different this time? Why did she keep making the same mistakes over and over? Could she forgive him as he was asking? She was going mad asking herself those questions and she needed to talk to someone. The only person she could think of was Helen. She called her and asked if they could meet in town for a coffee.

^/^

"So my dear, how is everything going? You look pale, are you eating properly?", inquired Helen with her usual motherly manners.

"He contacted me", said Molly.

"He… you mean?"

"Yes, Sherlock. He sent me a postcard and then he starting to text me. He is in a rehabilitation facility in Switzerland."

Helen smiled. "You see, I told you. There's always hope."

"I don't know what to do Helen. He asked me to come and see him, but… I'm not sure if I want it anymore."

"Did he give you any explanation?"

"Not really… he said he was sorry and that he would explain if I came to visit him. But I don't know… what if the same thing happens again? He just wants to see me because he's bored and then he'll change his mind again and… I won't be able to handle it another time. It just hurts too much."

"But if you don't go you will regret all your life."

"Yes", whispered Molly with tears in her voice. "But the last time I gave a second chance to a man… it ended up very badly."

Helen took her hand. "Listen, I think you need to hear what he has to say. Go over there, confront him, and then you will take your decision. If you think he isn't sincere then let it be. But at least you will be able to start a new leaf. What do you think?"

"You're right… but I know how I am. I've never been able to resist him."

"Molly, you're stronger than you think. And you are the one who has the cards in hand now. Go over there, tell him what's on your mind and whatever happens you will feel better afterwards."

Two days later, Molly was at Heathrow, boarding on a flight to Geneva.

^/^

Two trains and a taxi ride later, she reached Meiringen Rehabilitation Center. It was nestled in the mountains, and the white snow was covering everything in sight. Freezing with cold, she quickly entered the reception where a young blond woman greeted her with a smile.

"Hello, can I help you Madam?"

Molly felt a sudden panic wave… She hadn't informed anyone she was coming. But it was too late to make a U-Turn.

"Yes I come to visit a patient."

"Sure, what is his name?"

"Sh… Vernet, Alexandre Vernet." Thank god she remembered his alias otherwise she was about to make a big mistake.

The receptionist looked into her computer.

"Mr Vernet, yes of course. He had let us know he was expecting someone. Would you like to take a seat in the visitor's room? I will inform him of your presence immediately."

Molly settled in the room where a waiter brought her some tea. It had a large bay window with a view overlooking the valley. While waiting she went through the pages of the center's brochure. It looked more like a luxury hotel than a medical facility. It had the latest training equipment and even a gastronomic chef. Once again Mycroft's money had done wonders.

She knew that Sherlock would be there any minute now and she was getting increasingly nervous. When he finally entered the room, she barely recognized him. His hair had been cut short and dyed a dark auburn shade. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a white sweater which could have belonged to John. A member of the staff came to take off the chair opposing Molly so that he could settle at the table. Here they were, facing each other once again.

Molly didn't flinch. She tried to remain as impassive as possible despite her inner turmoil. Sherlock served himself some tea, took a sip then broke the awkward silence:

"Thank you for coming", he said.

"Why am I here Sherlock?", she inquired.

"I wanted you to discover the undeniable charm of Switzerland. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Stop that", she cut. "I came to hear what you had to say. If you're trying to fool me again, then I should leave immediately."

It felt like another person had spoken instead of her, a stronger, more confident Molly. Sherlock looked at her with a mix of surprise and interest.

"Alright, I suppose I owe you an explanation…"

"Yes you do. And you'd better hurry up before security throws me out at your brother's orders."

"Mycroft knows you are here."

"Oh. So I am no longer blacklisted? Is it because you're desperately in need of a distraction? You thought let's call back Molly, that should be fun for a few weeks. I did everything you told me when you came to ask for my help. I gave up my job and I left everything behind just to take care of you. And when I was starting to believe that maybe one day we could be happy together, you and your brother kicked me out as a dog. So explain to me because you see, I'm so stupid that I don't get it. I wonder what horrible things your brother told you about me?"

Sherlock had listened all along in his usual thinking pose, his hands joined under his chin. After a prolonged silence, he finally answered.

"Mycroft had nothing but praises for you. Actually he told me… that if loved you then I should let you go."

Molly shivered slightly. She didn't know what was the most shocking. The Holmes brothers twisted sense of logic or the fact that Sherlock had just… confessed his love for her?

"I'm not sure to understand."

"In one month I will be out of here. But life with me won't be anything fun. I am officially dead. I can't make a move without having one of the most dangerous criminals after me. I can't work. I don't have access to my bank accounts. I have no money except what my brother's give me. And I forgot the fact that I'm stuck on a wheelchair for the rest my days. I know you have a kind heart and you will probably tell me that none of this matter to you. But one day it will."

"So this is what Mycroft put in your head?"

"This is purely logical. You felt guilty after my accident so you thought you had to stay with me. The truth is you deserve much better. I got scared that one day you'll realise it. I left you so that you wouldn't leave me."

"What made you change your mind?"

"I followed your advice, I started seeing a therapist. I told her about… what you know. We also talked about you. She said that fear or rejection is a normal reaction but that if you were worth it then I should take the risk. "

"Am I worth it?"

"I tried hard to delete you Molly, but it's not working. I can't stop thinking about you. So if none of what I mentioned before seems an obstacle to you and if you are crazy enough to put up with me… I ask you to give me a second chance. You could stay here with me. There is a little hotel only 500 meters away. And for later, my family owns a house in West Sussex. It's a small village, if I keep a low profile I doubt anyone will look for me there. I don't want you to think that you are somehow stuck with me, I will respect your decision whatever it is. But it would make a great difference to me if had you at my side."

"What happens if I say no? You can't live on your own, who will stay with you? And what would I be exactly? Your employee? Your nurse? Or your girlfriend?"

"My wife".


	14. Dinner Miss Hooper ?

**Chapter 14**

« I'm sorry? »

« You asked what would be your role? I said I want you to be my wife."

Molly froze for a moment, and then burst into laughing.

"Your wife?" she repeated between two giggles, "your wife?"

Sherlock's face remained impassive, but he briefly looked down. Molly had seen him doing this before, it meant he was hurt.

"You weren't serious were you?", she inquired.

"I was, actually", he replied drily. "I just expected a different reaction, nevermind." He put his hands on the wheels of his chair, ready to leave the room.

_What had she done? _He had just proposed and she made fun of him. Of course she wanted to teach him a lesson but this had gone too far.

"No wait! Sherlock!", she exclaimed. "Stay please". She dragged her chair to sit closer to him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted that way, it's just that…you took me completely by surprise. The last time we saw each other you broke up with, and quite brutally. I went through very hard times. And now you come back into my life and ask me to… marry you? You have to admit this is a bit weird to say the least."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. She could feel it was one of those moment in which he was struggling to understand a concept that was completely foreign to him.

"Is it a yes or a no?"

"Sherlock I'm incredibly honored by your proposal…"

"But?"

"But it's too early. As I said, we just broke up, we need to see if we can pick up the pieces before thinking of going anywhere further. And we had been together for only three weeks, this is not enough we need much more time."

« I don't need more time », he replied. «Actually it took me far too long to understand it. You are intelligent, trustworthy and, despite what you tend to believe, physically attractive. You have seen the worst of me and it never turned you away. I always thought that relationships were pointless, that it would make me weak. But you proved me wrong, you've healed me Molly. So… the only logical conclusion to this is that I would be crazy to let you go. And your behaviour for the past five years led me to think that the feeling was mutual."

Molly took his hand.

"Oh... it is", she said with a smile. "But why getting married? I never thought that this would matter to you."

"Oh it doesn't. But I know it means something for you."

"You're right. And that's why I want to take my time. But… God I've missed you so much!"

She got up from her chair and went to sit on his lap, as they used to do before.

« I thought I'd never see you again », she whispered, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She felt his arms embracing her, and he placed a single kiss on her temple.

She looked back at him, and replied by kissing him tenderly on the lips.

"It's a shame you had to cut your hair. I really miss the curls", she said with a smile.

"This isn't a military hospital anymore, I can't take the risk to get recognized."

"Are you allowed to go out?"

"Yes, this isn't a prison."

"Then we should go on a date tonight."

"A date?"

"Yes, it's when two people…"

"… who like each other go out and have fun", finished Sherlock.

"It's a good definition. I'm surprised you know about it."

"John taught me."

"Oh I see."

« So Molly Hooper, should we have dinner tonight? »

« I would love to Mr... Vernet ».

^/^

That night, Sherlock and Molly shared a delicious meal at a French restaurant in Meiringen. And after that romantic evening, and a couple of wine glasses, they resumed the lesson they had started before Mycroft had interrupted them.

Molly's head was resting on Sherlock's chest. By the window she could see the beautiful mountains illuminated by the moonlight.

« It's a good thing I now have a room that locks», he said, passing his hand through her soft hair.

"Yes, I appreciate that. And that was the best date I ever had."

"Don't tell me it was the best sex because I won't believe you."

"It was… the most special".

Sherlock grinned.

"Did you feel anything at all?", she inquired.

"Not really. But it was globally pleasant."

She caressed his cheek affectionately. "It's just a start, it will get better with time. And if you talk to your doctor about it I'm sure he can help. I could come with you if you want…", she suggested.

"No."

"Alright", said Molly a bit disappointed. "It's fine, no rush".

He remained silent, she knew the subject made him feel uncomfortable.

"Are you upset?"

"No… it's just. There was this woman next to us at the restaurant. Blond, retired History teacher, recently back from a trip to India."

"Ok… what about her?"

"She kept staring at us the whole night. I could hear her thinking: _what is a woman like her doing with someone like him?"_

"You know… for many years every time I thought about you I would wonder, _what would a guy like him do with someone like me?_ I think this woman was just jealous because I'm dating a gorgeous man who has the most impressive biceps."

His deep baritone laugh filled the room.

"I told you, that's what swimming does."

"Well keep on swimming, I like that."

"Are you going to stay?"

"I can stay until Monday".

"And then?"

"I have to go back to London… to pick up my stuff."

"Mycroft could have it sent over here."

"No! From now on Mycroft doesn't have anything to do with us anymore. I mean… he's your brother and I will be polite if I have to see him but I won't work for him anymore. I don't want to be paid to stay with you. I shouldn't have accepted in the first place. If I stay here, I will pay for the hotel myself. I have a little money that my father left me, it's not much but it will do. And then if we settle somewhere else I will find a job."

"Alright. And if you want to be impolite with Mycroft, please do. I would be _delighted_."

^/^

After two days, Molly went back to London, more in love than ever. The fresh air of Switzerland had indeed done wonders to their relationship. She still wanted to take things step by step, but she was confident that they had a future together. She moved out the flat rented by Mycroft, put her few possessions in a storage facility and asked Helen to keep Toby until her return to England. One week later, she was back to Meiringen and never regretted it.

In the mornings Sherlock would attend his rehabilitation program. The progress he had accomplished was truly amazing. He had acquired a great independence in daily activities thanks to his upper-body strength. And his sessions with his psychologist had helped to balance his mood.

Sex was still a delicate issue. But thanks to Molly's insistence, Sherlock finally accepted that they attend together the center's specialised consultation. He was a dedicated pupil... and a fast learner. To Molly's delight, he had quickly registered all of her most sensitive spots. She was surprised to discover that he could be a very tender lover. He was so careful that at times it seemed he was almost afraid to hurt her.

At first she found it hard to reciprocate. What could you do with a man that has no sensation below the waist? But in a way, it forced her to be more imaginative. She knew that Sherlock had always been more cerebral than physical, and that he liked being flattered. She remembered one of the Yard officers once saying that he was getting off on compliments. So she didn't hesitate to tell him how good his caresses were and describe him exactly how she felt. It was still a work in progress, but they had a real intimacy and complicity. Something she had never shared with anyone before.

When the time came to leave Meiringen, Molly was both excited and scared. They had lived in a bubble for the past three weeks, and now they had to come back to reality.

Mycroft made the trip to Switzerland to organise Sherlock's transfer. He had a brief private conversation with Molly in which he acknowledged his mistake, arguing that he always acted with his brother's best interest in mind. Molly accepted his apologies but remained on her guard.

Seven months after the day on which Sherlock had requested her help at Bart's Hospital, Molly and him moved in together into a beautiful house in Sussex. The path had been painful, and both of them had changed along the way, but the game was still afoot.

^/^

_**I'm sorry I know this took forever! But I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**_

_**And a Merry Christmas to you all! I hope I will have more time to write during the holiday ;-)**_


	15. I do

_**** Hello everybody! I hope all of you are spending a great vacation. I hope the wait wasn't too long but here is your belated Christmas present: a long wedding chapter ! I hope you will enjoy it and wish you a Happy New Year! **_******

**Chapter 15**

From the few conversations they had on the subject, Molly knew that Sherlock came from a wealthy background. She had the confirmation when they arrived at Wisborough Green_. _Sherlock had told her that after Meiringen, they would move to a family property located in West Sussex. It turned out to be a beautiful stone house, almost a manor. Madeleine Vernet, Sherlock's maternal grandmother, had lived there in the seventies, before going back to France, her native country. The house had remained empty ever since.

Mycroft had ordered some refurbishment works in order to adapt the house to Sherlock's situation: wider doors, lower furniture and a specially equipped bathroom. The property was large enough for them to use only the ground floor. The first floor would remain unoccupied, with a succession of empty bedrooms and antiques covered by a thick layer of dust.

The older Holmes had also collected a few of Sherlock's belongings at Baker Street: some files from his earlier cases, his violin, all the science equipment and, to Mrs. Hudson's relief, the infamous skull. He informed the landlady that he would continue to pay for the rent and would like the place to remain as Sherlock left it. She had never imagined Mycroft to be such a sentimental man, but it suited her this way. She didn't have the strength, or the will, to look for another tenant after John had moved out.

Molly had the entire content of her old apartment transferred to Sussex, including Toby who was introduced to Sherlock for the first time. In the beginning, the atmosphere was a bit tensed between the two alpha males of the household. Sherlock didn't like the cat to come in their bed and Toby was determined to get Molly's undivided attention. However, the feline quickly discovered a new exciting playground: the garden. He turned out to be a great hunter and enjoyed bringing back dead mice and other rodents to his mistress. While Molly wasn't very fond of those morbid gifts, Sherlock thought they could be useful for his experiments. This was how Toby became Sherlock's official body parts' provider, and a new friendship was sealed.

Molly took great care in decorating the house, _their_ house, the symbol of a new life together, far away from hospitals and doctors. Even if they wouldn't be completely free until Moriarty's network was dismantled, the future looked brighter. As soon as they would be fully settled, she would start looking out for a job.

As the first days of spring were coming, Sherlock asked Molly the same question he had already made her three months ago, this time with a beautiful ring. She said yes.

^/^

The wedding was planned for the 1st of May. The fact that Sherlock was still officially dead didn't help with the procedures but Mycroft informed them he would take everything in charge. In other circumstances, Molly would have loved to plan every details of the ceremony, from the flowers to the color of the napkins. In fact, she had imagined everything in her mind since she was a lonely little girl reading stories of princes and princess. But the reality would probably be very different. There wouldn't be any guests or fancy wedding dinner, just a few papers to sign in front of a clerk at the registry office. But it didn't matter as long as she was marrying the man she loved.

Wisborough Green's shopping options for wedding dresses being very limited, Mycroft arranged for Molly a private appointment with a renowned stylist in London. His personal assistant Anthea was also there to help her. None of the dresses she tried on that day had price labels, which meant they were probably outrageously expensive. She didn't like the fact that Mycroft was involved, and would once again pay for the expenses. But he insisted to see it as a wedding gift and, the dress being her only personal touch, she put her principles aside. She picked a simple but beautiful organza piece, with a matching veil. She asked for it to be delivered to Sussex on the morning of the wedding, knowing too well that if she kept it at home, Sherlock would find a way to see it before the date.

As the big day was getting closer, Molly was feeling increasingly nervous. She had always been unhappy in love, had always made the wrong choices when it came to men. Why would it be different this time? Her biggest fear was that Sherlock would change his mind, cancel off the wedding or, even worse, abandon her and say no during the ceremony. But when she woke up on the morning of May 1st, he was still sleeping peacefully at her side. She gently passed her hand through his hair, which was starting to grow longer and had regained its usual color

"Hello", she whispered.

"Good morning Miss Hooper", he replied, "and this is the last time I can say that, tomorrow morning you won't be a _Miss_ anymore".

"I know this is… weird. Are you feeling nervous?"

« No. Why should I? »

"Well, because we're getting married today and this is usually how people feel before."

"Hum, I see. So you do feel nervous?"

"Yes, actually I'm terrified. I'm getting married, this is the most important day of my life and…" She looked at the time on the alarm clock. "God I'm already late!", she exclaimed.

Molly jumped out of the bed, quickly pulled up her hair in a ponytail and starting to pace around the room.

"I'm still in my pyjamas and they are about to bring the dress. What if the car gets stuck in traffic, and the dress is late, what will I do? I need time to do my nails, and my hair and everything and then I don't even know where I'm going! Can you believe it? I'm probably the only bride in the world who doesn't know where she is getting married! Are you hungry? You can grab something in the fridge, I don't have time to cook and I don't think I can swallow anything anyway. Oh God what if the dress is late, I don't even have anything white that could work instead."

With that, she rushed to the bathroom and locked herself in it, leaving Sherlock puzzled. He knew that women could turn into complete lunatics on their wedding day. He had seen examples in one of the stupid reality shows Molly and him had watched during his time at the hospital. How was it called again? Oh yes…_bridezillas_. Was it what was happening to his Molly? Suddenly he wasn't feeling so relaxed anymore. His phone rang, and he knew who it was without even looking at the screen.

"Hello brother dear. A morning call? How kind of you. What is it? Don't tell me you couldn't resist and already ate half of the wedding cake. That would be… _unfortunate_."

"I was just checking on you. The car is set to pick you up at eleven, remember?"

"Do you think… you could make it ten?"

"Problem?", inquired Mycroft.

"No I just thought… that Molly would feel more comfortable to get ready if I'm not around."

"Right."

There was an awkward silence.

"Sherlock?"

"What?"

"If you think this was a mistake, it is still time to cancel everything, I can take care of it."

"Why would I want to cancel?", he said with indignation. "I'm just… nervous, it is perfectly normal to get nervous on your wedding day. Just send the car, at ten."

He hanged up, and put back his head on the pillow, decided to get more sleep. This moment of peace didn't last long as a scream came out from the bathroom.

"I have a pimple! On my wedding day, a pimple! We need to do something, do you think we can change the date?"

Sherlock sighed. _This was going to be a very long day…._

^/^

Molly took a last look at herself in the mirror. She had done her hair and make-up herself because she wanted to keep it quite simple. The dreaded pimple had been hidden under a bit of corrector, and her features were enhanced by some blush, lipstick and mascara. She had done some curls in her long hair and was wearing a pearl necklace inherited from her grandmother. It matched perfectly with the beautiful organza dress, which had hopefully arrived on time. She took a deep breath, it was time to leave.

A familiar large black car was waiting in front of the house. She knew that Mycroft had sent it, but she wasn't expecting to find him inside. The idea to share the ride with her future brother-in-law wasn't a very pleasant one.

"Good morning Molly, you look… _radiant_."

"Thank you", she answered a bit defiantly.

The car started, Molly was gazing outside the window, carefully trying to ignore Mycroft. Despite his earlier apologies, she hadn't quite forgiven him yet for the pain he had caused her. They travelled for a while in a deep silence that he was the first to break:

"I never imagined this day would come, seeing my brother getting married. You know, he didn't even come to my own wedding. He said it was… a _ridiculous_ and _incredibly boring idea_. I guess you deeply changed him."

She hesitantly turned to face him while he continued:

"Once again, I am sorry if I may have seemed you harsh in the past. But after all what happened to Sherlock, I didn't want to take the risk to see him getting hurt again."

"And are you reassured now?"

"I know you that your feelings are sincere. And mutual."

"They are", she confirmed.

"But getting married is only the beginning. The real challenge is to make it last, and sadly feelings are not always enough. It takes a lot of patience, efforts… sometimes renunciation."

"Are you talking from experience?"

His smile told her he wouldn't answer that question.

"I never properly thanked you for what you did for Sherlock. I want you to know that I am immensely grateful. You saved my brother. Now it is my turn to repair my mistakes and make sure he can be free and safe again. I promise you I will find Moran. And… that you don't have anything to fear from me anymore."

"Thank you"

"You're welcome. I think we have reached our destination."

The car stopped. Molly looked outside and couldn't quite believe her eyes.

"It's… a church!", she exclaimed, turning to Mycroft for explanations.

"It was all Sherlock's idea, I merely took care of the logistics. Now I will join the guests and the groom who are already waiting inside. I won't make you the offence of walking you down the aisle. I think you are strong enough to do it on your own. Good luck, Miss Hooper. I wish you the best."

^/^

It was a small church, a chapel located in the middle of the countryside, exactly the type of place Molly would have chosen herself. She was catholic and she wished to marry at church. But she knew that Sherlock was a firm Atheist so she was surprised he had made that concession for her.

She put her veil down and entered the doors. What she saw inside took her breath away. The place had been entirely decorated with candles and her favourite flowers, white roses and lilies. The guests stood up at her entrance. There was Mycroft, next to a man Molly had never seen before but who was probably his husband William. Anthea was there was as well, along with Helen the nurse. And waiting for her by the altar was Sherlock, looking gorgeous in a dark suit, white shirt and blue tie. When the first notes of the _Ave Maria_ played, she couldn't hold back her tears.

While walking down the aisle, she thought of her father, wishing he could have been there with her. When she sat down next to Sherlock, he gave her one of his rare bright smile and lifted up her veil to wipe her tears away.

The priest conducted the ceremony, and Molly's heart was beating in her chest until the much expected moment of the exchange of vows:

"Sherlock Alexandre Scott Holmes, will you take Molly Violet Eleonor Hooper here present for your lawful wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her, in sickness or health, for richer for poorer, for better and worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live ?"

"I do", he replied without hesitation.

"Molly Violet Eleonor Hooper will you take Sherlock Alexandre Scott Holmes here present for your lawful husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in sickness or health, for richer for poorer, for better and worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live ?"

"I do", she managed to articulate, her voice almost breaking with emotion.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife".

^/^

Mycroft had taken care of the legal matters. The priest had been informed of the situation, but since he had received the information in confession, their secret was safe. They signed the wedding certificate with Sherlock's real name, which would be registered only after his return. But for the time being, they received new passports under the name of Mr and Mrs Vernet.

After the ceremony, a meal was delivered by a caterer at Sherlock and Molly's home. And when all the guests had left, Sherlock and Molly found themselves enjoying their first evening as newlyweds.

They watched a movie together, then moved to the bedroom. Molly had long ago abandoned her wedding dress for a more comfortable outfit. Sherlock had kept the suit on except for the jacket, and Molly was undoing the tie for him between some kisses.

"So was it really the first time ever you were wearing a tie?"

"Yes, and the last."

"Too bad, I liked it. And the blue matched your eyes, you looked absolutely dashing."

"So did you", he whispered into her hear.

"Is it true what Mycroft said, did you really plan all this?"

"I did."

"Sherlock that was… amazing. I mean it was perfect, in every single detail. How could you know? And don't tell me it was only deductions."

"I remembered. All those wedding shows you made me watch at hospital. I remembered your reactions, what you liked, what you disliked." Molly ignored that since they had started dating, she now occupied a whole room in Sherlock's mind palace. A room that kept becoming larger and larger.

"I though you deleted all the non-important information?"

"Who said you were not important?"

"It was perfect", she said after another kiss. "I wished… my dad could have been there, I think he would have been proud."

"I missed John", added Sherlock.

"Oh yes of course. I mean all of them, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson. She would have loved it!"

Sherlock smiled.

"Maybe, when we come back to London one day… we could have another ceremony?", suggested Molly.

"If you want to. In the meantime… I have a wedding gift for you."

"Really ?", she cried in excitement.

"Yes it's under your pillow".

Molly immediately looked under it, what she found left her quite surprised.

"A newspaper?"

"Yes, the Scotsman to be exact".

"I'm not sure to get it."

"Page 27, top left article."

She quickly went through the pages, found the article and started to read it out loud :

"Respected surgeon arrested for tax fraud. David Sheppard, 35, surgeon at the the Royal Edinburgh Hospital…". There was a picture of a handcuffed man being taken by the police. He had changed but Molly suddenly recognized him and her face fell. "Sherlock tell me you didn't do that..."

"It's hardly me fault if the man didn't pay his taxes…"

"Oh of course, and you dare to tell me you or your brother don't have anything to do with his arrest? I had TOLD you not to look into this!"

"Molly I…"

"I thought I had been clear. This is the past, I don't want to hear about him anymore and especially not today. I don't care about it and this was… stupid of you." She put down the newspaper in an angry gesture and looked away.

Sherlock waited for a moment before

"He is married, two children. And apparently he didn't lose his old habits."

Molly turned back to him.

"Does he beat his wife?"

"Yes. I saw the medical reports from her file. Pretty nasty wounds but she didn't press charges. He will spend two years behind bars, if she is smart enough that will give her the opportunity to leave him."

Molly nodded.

"I wanted you to know that this bastard got what he deserved, and in my opinion and it's not even enough. But, I promise we won't talk about it anymore."

"Ok". She came back to curl against him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry… I overreacted. Thank you. And actually I had a gift for you too."

"I'm hardly surprised", said Sherlock with a grin.

"It's in the drawer of your bedside table. Well it's not much it's just…"

Sherlock extended a hand to open a drawer and took out an envelop with his name on it.

"In fact I would prefer if I'm not here when you open it", said Molly.

"Why ?"

"Because… I don't know. I just don't want to be there when you read it. It's…". She was blushing like the shy mousy girl he had once known at Bart's. "I'm going to change in the bathroom, I bought some nice lingerie when I was in London, especially for tonight, I'm sure you will like it. But please wait ok?"

"Fine", said Sherlock rolling his eyes.

As soon as the door closed, he opened the envelop in which he found a wedding congratulation card. It was all very Molly-like with pink ribbons, flowers and even a dove.

Inside were a few handwritten words:

"_Little girls' dreams don't always come true._

_Mine did._

_I loved you since the very first day, and I will until the very last._

_You are a special kind of prince charming._

_But you are mine._

_And I am yours, forever._

_Molly"_


	16. Dear Diary

_**Hello everybody!**_

_**I know it has been a while but I'm back! **_

_**We had left Sherlock and Molly on their wedding day. For this chapter I decided to try something a little different because it covers a long period of time. I hope you like it and please review ^^. Lots of love!**_

_**^/^**_

**July 5th**

Dear diary,

Ok so I bough a diary (obviously!). I was shopping at this really cute bookshop in the village, I saw it and I decided it would be good idea. I never had one as a child, so it's time to catch up. Of course I had the blog… but I can't use it anymore. I know nobody will be reading this but me, which in fact is better since I can talk about everything!

So it's been two month since Sherlock and I got married. I still can't believe it sometimes and I have to look at the beautiful ring on my finger to remember that it's true. The ceremony was so perfect that it was a bit hard coming back to reality afterwards!

We haven't been on a honeymoon of course, but we finished settling into our new house. The weather was beautiful lately so I have been able to do a bit of gardening. Toby loooooves the garden, it's going to be hard for him when we go back to London. Even if we don't know when it will happen…

Mycroft is still investigating on Moriarty's network but it's very complicated… I know it's tough for Sherlock because he can barely get out of the house. We can't take the risk of someone recognizing him. So the big challenge is to keep him busy! We now have whole room dedicated to his experiments. I know that in Baker Street he used to keep weird things in the fridge but I made it clear it won't be happening at our house! So Mycroft transferred his old science equipments and also bought some new ones. He is currently making some research about coal-tar derivatives and plans to write a monograph about it. I hope it will last for a while… I'm sure he misses his work so much.

I do miss mine too… I know I can't find a pathologist position here, but maybe there is something else I could do? Because I need to have an occupation and I also want to make some money. Even if my relation with Mycroft is doing better, I still feel uncomfortable that he is paying for everything. I know that we can't be financially independent for the moment (because Sherlock has no access to his bank accounts) but if I could contribute a little bit it would make me feel better. I really have to think about it…

OK I have to leave for now because I don't want Sherlock to see me writing (he's in the shower right now. So I have to find a good hiding place for you dear diary! bye bye

XoXo

**July 7th**

Hello again!

Today I'm writing upstairs. I go there sometimes to go through all the antiques and old stuff that were left here. There are some really beautiful things, especially some paintings that are signed by "Horace Vernet". I asked Sherlock if it was someone from his family and he said he was an ancestor of his grandmother. He is a famous French painter, so they must be worth a lot of money!

There is also a portrait of his grandmother Madeleine when she was younger. She was really a beautiful woman… I brought it back downstairs to hang it on a wall. I know Sherlock loved her a lot and she used to talk to him only in French. I had no idea he could speak it so well! So now I ask him to talk to me in French sometimes… I think it's really sexy ^^

What else? I'm starting to know a few people in the village. Mostly old women who enjoy gossiping. Everybody seems to know each other here, so of course there are curious to see new faces. They had heard that a new couple had moved in that house which had been empty for a long time, so they wanted to know more about us. I had to make up something… I said that my husband had a car accident so we left London because we wanted to be in a quiet place. I think they believed me, after all it's not so far from the truth…

I think I will hide the diary here because I'm sure Sherlock will never find it (I feel quite horrible writing that... but I mean he's Sherlock Holmes so he would find it anywhere else.)

XoXo

**July 29th**

Today Sherlock had a check up with a doctor coming from the military hospital. The results are good, the doctor said that he's doing well for someone who suffered this type of injury. But he still needs to see a kinesitherapist once a week for his back and to take some medication.

It has been more than one year since… Bart's. So many things have happened since that it almost seems like another life. I think that he has accepted the situation and he's so strong. But sometimes I see something in his eyes that makes me sad…

We had some news from John via Mycroft. He's still seeing his therapist but hopefully he's doing better (and dating many girls, as usual!). I don't know what will surprise him the most when we see him again: that Sherlock is alive or that we got married ?

XoXo

**August 9****th**

I went back to the bookshop today to get some chemistry book I had ordered for Sherlock and… there was a sign in the window saying that they are hiring a part time shop assistant. There used to be a girl working there with the owner, and apparently she's gone. I wonder if I should apply ?

It's really a cute shop and a part time job would be perfect. The owner seems really nice but I didn't dare to ask him… I need to talk to Sherlock about it before first. He knows that I want to work but I'm not sure he's very enthusiastic about it. I'm afraid that he feels lonely if I'm gone half of the day. But at the same I think it's not good for us to be together 100% of the time.

We have some little fights sometimes. Mostly because he's so messy ! I told him I was fed up to spend my time picking up his clothes in the bedroom and everything else… And of course he started sulking. Sometimes I feel like I take care of a 5 year old !

XoXo

**August 11th**

I got the job !

I was super nervous but I finally went back to the bookshop today. The sign on the window was still there. I talked to the owner. His name is Jeremy and he's really adorable (he's also very handsome but I think he's gay so Sherlock won't get jealous!).

He was a bit surprised when I told him I was a doctor but I explained my situation… We got along really well and he said I could start next week! I will work from Tuesday to Saturday, in the afternoon only. And I will have my Sundays and Mondays off. I know Sherlock isn't thrilled, but he agreed. I'm sure he will get used to it…

XoXo

**August 14th**

Back from my first day at work! It went really well. I took care of new books that had arrived, did a bit of accounting and welcomed the clients when Jeremy was busy. He is so nice and explained me everything. I think I'm going to love it.

Sherlock… texted me about 15 times in the afternoon. Asking me where I had put the wash up liquid and other random requests. Of course he wouldn't know where the wash up liquid is, he never does the dishes! At some point I had to turn down my phone because it was a bit embarrassing. He was not happy that I didn't answer him… but I know he was already like that with John in the past.

Anyway, as long as he doesn't burn down the house… Which could happen by the way because he know uses a blowtorch for his experiments! Oh dear!

XoXo

**August 30th**

Sorry diary I didn't have much time to write lately… I'm a busy girl now!

Work is doing great and Jeremy is the sassy gay friend I always dreamed to have. It's great to have someone to confide in even if of course I can't tell him the true story. But he always gives me good advice.

OK that was short but I got to go! I hear Sherlock yelling downstairs and Toby meowing… not good!

XoXo

**September 3rd**

Happy Birthday to me! I'm turning 33 today… getting old !

XoXo

**September 4th**

What a great birthday!

Jeremy did a mini party for me at the shop, with some cupcakes. He offered me a pink water pen and a cat bow tie for Toby lol ! (I managed to take a picture of him wearing it before he tore it apart…).

And when I came back home… Sherlock had cooked dinner! Yes he COOKED. He said it was easy because cooking is just chemistry and the meal was delicious (if there anything this man is not good at?). After dessert he gave me my present … a beautiful flower pendant necklace. I LOVE IT !

XoXo

**September 15th**

Jeremy had a great idea. Once a month we are going to go in the village's school and read stories to the children. It's a great way to get them interested into books and I can't wait!

That was the good news… bad news is that we had a call from Mycroft who told us that Sherlock's mother is in the hospital. She fell at her house and broke a hip. I hope she will get better soon. Sherlock doesn't talk about her often but I know that he still cares. A bit like me and my mum. We don't get along but she is my mother… I called her a few months ago, I told her I was living with a man. She seemed surprised, she always though I would stay an old maid.

XoXo

**September 29th**

We did our first visit to the school today, it went great ! This first time what about fairy tales, so I went dressed as a princess and Jeremy as a wolf (!). The children were between 6 to 10 years old, they paid attention and were so cute ! I read "Blondine, Bonne-Biche, and Beau Minon" by the Contesse de Segur which was my favourite when I was little because it has a talking cat.

Speaking of cats… we may have a kitten situation. I never had Toby neutered because we were living in a flat… but now he spends a lot of time outside and he made a lady cat friend. I saw her in the back of our garden and she I think she is pregnant! I know that was really stupid of me… But I love kittens (who doesn't?) so I'm also excited. I hope we find them good houses and maybe we can keep one?

XoXo

**October 8th**

No big news. Except I went to the hairdresser today to cut my hair a little bit. It's not short, it's just a bit shorter and with better style. It was Jeremy's idea he said I would look "less like a little girl" and more like "confident woman". I like it, Sherlock doesn't of course. It's true he always loved my long hair but he's just being stubborn. I think I look prettier…

His hair is completely back to normal now, dark black curls… so cute.

XoXo

**October 21st**

The kittens are born! There are four of them and they are the cutest thing in the word. I took them into the house with their mummy because it's not safe for them to stay outside. Sherlock complained… but he agreed to give a look at them while I'm at work. I know how he works now… he rants and then he agrees.

Jeremy will take one of them, and we will put an ad in the bookshop to see in some of our customers are interested in adopting the other ones. (I still plan to keep one of those little fur balls).

XoXo

**November 16th**

Toulouse and Bella will be adopted by two lovely old ladies. Jeremy will take Oscar, the black one. And little Luna will stay with us. But we have to keep all of them until there are at least 10 weeks old. Toby is a bit of distant daddy but at least he doesn't hurt the kittens (I know that can happen sometimes). I have taken an appointment to take him to the vet because this can't happen another time!

I'm a bit worried for Sherlock lately. He is often in a dark mood and it has been a while since we didn't have sex… I think I have to keep more time for him but with 6 cats at home things are a bit crazy right now. Too much to do!

XoXo

**December 1st**

It's the beginning of December which means… Christmas time is coming! It's great to have such a big house, I have plenty of decoration ideas.

Jeremy is attending a book fair in London which means I have to take care of the shop by myself for two days and work full time. That's not helping with having a better atmosphere at home…

The kittens are growing fast, soon they will be exploring on their own. I could watch them for hours :-)

XoXo

**December 10th**

I'm upstairs. I have been crying for almost an hour.

Oh my god I can't believe this happened….

Sherlock and I had a fight. Not a small fight, a massive one. It started with a silly thing. Oscar went into the experiment room and spilled one of his test tubes. He made a whole fuss about it, and I said he should have been more careful and lock the door because the kitten could have been poisoned by the chemicals. He said he never wanted them at home, that they are bothering him while he's working. (I know it's not true, because I saw him playing with them one time, he's just being a dick…). Then I don't know how but the whole thing escalated. He said this wouldn't have happened if I wasn't working, that I took this job to get away from him, because he's disabled and I'm losing my time with him… which is complete nonsense. He was going on and on, so I said stupid things myself like "you're right I don't know what I'm doing with you". I can't believe I said that… but I was really angry. Then I started crying and ran upstairs.

I didn't realise he was suffering so much, I think he is depressed… But I don't like that he's acting more and more possessive with me. It brings back painful memories even if I know that Sherlock would never ever hit me.

And there is something else… going to the school, seeing those children. It makes me both happy and sad at the same times. Because the truth is I want be a mother and… we cannot have children. I know it since the consultation with the sexologist in Meiringen. At first I thought that I was fine with it but I was lying to myself and it hurts more and more. Maybe we could adopt one day. But it's impossible as long as Sherlock is "dead" and I have no idea of how long it will take…

I never talked to him about that… actually I don't even know if he wants children! Maybe we should have had that conversation before getting married… Maybe Mycroft was right and sentiment is not enough… I love him so much but for the first time I wonder if we didn't make a mistake. I feel horrible and I don't know what to do…

I will go back downstairs now even If I feel super awkward. Wish me luck.


	17. When you have eliminated the impossible

**~ I know it took forever… Sorry ! Enjoy ! ~**

**Chapter 17**

Molly closed her diary, and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

She couldn't stay here all night, she had to go back downstairs and face the situation.

But the knot in her stomach was growing every minute. There had been harsh words pronounced, what if the damage was irreparable?

She went down the stairs and found the living room plunged in the dark. She turned on the lights but Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Her attention was suddenly caught by noises coming from the kitchen. She went there and found it in a complete mess. Toby and two of the kittens had ripped off a pack of cat food and spilled all its content on the floor. Molly kneeled down to clean and took little Oscar in her arms.

"I'm sorry nobody fed you my poor dear", she whispered. "You caused a lot of mess today you know. I think he's angry at us but it's just because he is so sad. How could someone be angry at you? You are so adorable".

She placed some food and milk for all the cats to share, and headed to the bedroom.

The door was ajar, and she could see Sherlock's silhouette lying in the bed. It made her feel both relieved and anxious. She tiptoed into the room, grabbed her pyjamas and quickly made her way to the bathroom. Then, still not the turning the lights on, she got into her side of the bed.

Staring at the wall, she knew she wouldn't be able to find rest anytime soon. And she could tell by Sherlock's breathing pattern that he was not sleeping either. But none of them seemed ready to break the ice. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, it was finally him who broke the heavy silence:

"The human brain is really a fascinating organ", he stated, leaving Molly puzzled. "Otherwise how do you explain that in my dreams I still can walk?"

His words made her heart sink.

"It's called… the unconscious", she answered softly.

Sherlock snorted in frustration.

"Are you going to leave?", he asked.

She quickly turned around to face him.

"No. Of course not!", she exclaimed.

"You said…"

"I didn't mean what I said and you know it." She moved closer to him, put her hand around his waist and placed a kiss on his jaw. "I'm not going anywhere because I want to be with you. I don't know of many times I have to explain it. But you have to stop acting so… possessive with me. I told you from the beginning that I wanted to work and make money, I though you agreed with it. I didn't take this job to get away from you. But you have your experiments and your monographs to keep you busy. And I don't have… anything. You're not the only one who misses your work you know."

She didn't want to start another argument, but she needed to get those things off chest. There are been too much left unsaid between them during the past months.

After another moment of silence, he answered:

"I'm sorry I put you in this position."

"Sherlock. I married you remember? I chose to be you for better and worse. And I meant it. I know how hard this is for you. But it won't last forever. When we go back to London things will get better."

"What if we never go back to London? What if we never find Moran? I'm locked in here and I can't do anything! This is driving me crazy…I…" He stopped, his voice breaking.

"Shhh", she whispered, passing a calming hand through his hair. This remembered her of another time, long ago at the hospital, and fear suddenly invaded her.

"You're not having… that kind of thoughts again, are you?"

"No"

"You promise me? Promise me you wouldn't do anything stupid."

"Yes".

"OK. I think you shouldn't underestimate your brother. He might be a pain in the ass but he is the best at what he does. He will find Moran."

"I guess so", he managed to reply, containing his tears.

"Maybe… we should contact John and tell him the truth? He could visit you sometimes, I'm sure it would make you happy", she suggested.

"No, no we have to stick to the plan. John cannot know before this is all over."

"It is quite unlikely he is still being watched."

"If John knows that Moran is out somewhere, he will go after him. I don't want him involve in that, it's too dangerous."

"Do you want me to take a few days off?"

"No. I will call my therapist in Meiringen. Ask her if I should take my medication again."

Molly rested her head against Sherlock's chest and took his hand in hers.

"Did I already tell you that you're the bravest man I know?"

He squeezed her hand and kissed the top of her head.

"Are we good?", he asked.

"Yes", she said with a smile.

"At least it gave you something to write about in your diary."

"Oh, you know about the diary?"

"Of course I do."

"Did you read it?", she asked in worry.

"If you didn't notice, I rarely go upstairs. Which is I think the reason why you keep it here."

"We just said no more fighting."

"I'm not fighting. I'm only stating a fact. You keep a diary and you don't want me to know about it."

"That's… the concept of a diary darling. Nobody is supposed to read it but me."

"What is the point of writing it then?"

"It's just a way to… take some time to think about my day. What I did, how I feel…"

"That's all?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I noticed you looked… preoccupied lately. I'm wondering if there's anything I should know about?"

"No, don't worry", she said, and gave him another kiss.

It was a lie, and they both knew it. But Mycroft was right, sentiment was not enough. Sometimes a few lies were necessary to make a marriage work. And that night, they fell asleep in peace with each other.

^/^

Christmas came, and then a new year started for the couple in Sussex. Mycroft visited them for Sherlock's birthday on January 6th. Sadly, he had no significant news to bring about the hunt for Moran.

Sherlock was back on a small dose of antidepressant, which helped to balance his mood swings. Molly was always keeping a close look on him. She also started to exchange on an internet forum with other women in the same situation. It was a comforting experience and she found some good suggestions, especially to use in bedroom.

The kittens got adopted by their respective families, leaving the house a bit empty. They only kept little Luna, for which Molly was a real doting mother.

Then, in March, something unbelievable happened. Something that couldn't be true.

Locked in the bathroom of the bookshop, Molly was holding a positive pregnancy test. The second one. Lost in her thoughts, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Molly? Molly are you alright?", called Jeremy.

"Yes !"

"Are you sure?"

She came out of the bathroom, her hands shaking slightly.

"Molly if you're sick you can go back home. It has been a few days you're not feeling well."

"I'm not sick Jeremy… I think… I think I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant? Molly this is fantastic!"

"I mean, I'm not sure. I need to see a doctor first. And then… god I don't even know how I'm going to tell Sher..". She stopped abruptly, realising she had almost betrayed herself. "Chéri. It means darling in French. That's how I call him sometimes."

"It's fine", said Jeremy with a knowing smile. "See that doctor, give me call and then go back to that lucky husband of yours… whatever his name is".

"Why are you telling this? His name is Alexandre."

"Molly, it's ok. We all have our little secrets." He pulled her in her arms and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm so happy for you".

^/^

"I want to tell you about something", said Molly, sitting on the side of the bed where Sherlock was settled with his laptop. He was making research for a future investigation techniques manual he planned to write. She coughed to get his attention, but his eyes were fixed on the screen. Frustrated, she closed the computer and took it away from him.

"Hey! I was reading something!", he complained.

"I said I wanted to talk to you, and I want you to listen to me."

"Couldn't it wait?"

"No". She got onto the bed and straddled him.

"OK well I'm listening", he surrendered.

Molly hesitated. Despite her excitement, she had been pushing back the announcement all evening. The last time she had told a man she pregnant, things had gone terribly wrong… Sherlock wasn't David but they had never discussed the possibility of having children one day so she had no idea of what his reaction could be. Also, she kept wondering if maybe he already knew? He was Sherlock Holmes, the man who could see everything. It seemed impossible that he had missed some pretty obvious symptoms. Was he deliberately ignoring it ?

"Sherlock do you have… any idea of what I want to tell you?"

"No. Could you please come to the point. You know I don't like riddles."

Molly bit her lower lip.

"Didn't you notice anything about me lately?"

"You keep saying that I shouldn't deduce you."

"Yes I know but…this time you're allowed."

His expression suddenly changed. She saw his eyes scanning her and he took one of her hand in his to study it carefully.

"You consulted a doctor today. You lost 1lb and you had nausea this week. It could be stomach flu but your nails are bitten, so you are worried. Also you didn't have your periods this month which could be another symptom." A shadow passed over his face. "Are you sick? Is it serious?"

"No, no I'm not sick. Listen, you have all the clues, but you just reached the wrong conclusion. I know you delete a lot of information but… this is actually very easy to guess."

He raised an eyebrow, obviously puzzled.

"Sherlock, I am pregnant."

"No", he said shaking his head. "No, this is impossible. The specialist said…"

"The specialist said that natural conception was improbable. But not impossible. We have sex, and we never used contraception because we thought it was unnecessary. I have nausea, my periods are late and a doctor confirmed me today that I was pregnant. I can show you the paper if you don't believe me. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Isn't it what you say ? »

He started at her, dumbfounded. Then the news seemed to process into his mind and his face turned blank. For once he seemed to be completely speechless.

"Sherlock, please say something…anything…", she begged. "I know we should have talked about it before, and I'm aware the timing is not perfect. But… I want this baby more than anything. I want to have it with you. But if you don't want it then I'll have without you. I let it happened to me once but not twice..."

She covered her face with her hands, but he caught one of her wrist gently.

"That's not what I said. It's just that… it's something I never considered."

"Having a child?"

"Yes. I am not sure I have what it takes. My patience is very limited."

"That's not true. I saw once with one a little girl at Bart's, the one who had just lost her mother. You were very patient with her, and you found the right words."

"There's a difference between interrogating a child, and having one of your own…I doubt I would make a suitable father."

"I'm sure you will be a great father", she told him with a smile. But he didn't reciprocate. He looked truly worried and Molly realised it might be for another reason.

"OK what is it that really bothers you?", she inquired. "Does it has something to do… with what happened to you as a child?"

"No…" he said with a sigh. "I was never happy as a child, even before it happened. I could never be carefree because I had that constant flow of information going through my brain and I had no idea of what to do with it. It was a burden I carried until I created this job but it took me years. Mycroft has it, my grandmother had it, and I don't think it is fair to pass it on to anybody."

"OK first of all your genes are not the only ones involved, and the Hooper family doesn't really have a history of geniuses…"

"You are smart."

"Thank you dear but my point is… I don't think you were unhappy because of your IQ. From what you told me about your family, it seems that your parents weren't really available for you and they didn't give you much affection. Same thing for Mycroft. But, if our child happens to have this gift, it will be different. Because he or she will have you to help him make the best out of it. You know, it's the same for me. My mum was far from perfect but I will do my best not to be like her. Because I already love that baby so much!"

Finally, a smile, or rather a smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"It's good to see you so happy",

"I'm beyond happy. I'm completely ecstatic."

"I'm absolutely terrified", he confessed.

"No…", she said giggling. "You'll be great at this, like you are at everything. And with a child at home, you'll never get bored anymore. EVER!"

He put his hands on her hips, pulled up her nightie and stared at her belly with curiosity.

"Can I touch?"

"Sure. But you won't feel anything for the moment;"

He passed his hand over her stomach, so delicately that it made her shiver.

"It's really tiny for the moment, just an embryo. But soon I will become as big as a whale."

"When will it be born?"

"It is one month old, so do your maths."

"How would I know?"

"Are you kidding? How would you NOT know? 9 months Sherlock! It's for October."

"I need more about data. How is the development process? When do you know the gender?"

"Ok ok, I'll bring you a book about that. We have a great one at the store, it explains to children how babies are made."

"Well I already found out about that part."

"That's true". She lowered down and kissed him, tenderly first, then more passionately.

"Can we still…engage into this type of activities? I mean isn't it dangerous?"

"No, it's fine. Actually some pregnant women have an increased libido", she whispered into his hear. "And the other news you're going to enjoy is that my breast is going to bet bigger."

"I never complained about your breast."

"Yes you did. Christmas party, two years ago. And about my lips, on numerous occasions."

"I deleted that"

"Yes, how convenient."

Sherlock pulled up her nightie again and this time took it off completely. Her body hadn't changed yet but he could already feel the difference. A newly found confidence was radiating from her, and it was incredibly beautiful. He closed his eyes for the moment, trying to catalogue the feelings buzzling in his mind palace. There was pride, fear, excitement and a new set of priorities. He would never walk again but in his dreams, and maybe Moran would never be found but in a way it didn't mattered anymore. Because the woman he loved was expecting a child. _His child_. And nothing could be more important than this.


	18. Interlude - Dear Brother

**Thank you all for your reviews. As an Easter present, here is a little bonus chapter! ^^**

**^/^**

**Subject: Recommendations**

From : mholmes

To : vernet 1895 

Dear brother,

It has come to my ears that Molly and you are expecting a happy event. While the news is rather unexpected, please accept my sincere congratulations and extend them to your wife. I am certain that Molly must be delighted by the prospect of being a mother, and I hope you will assume your responsibilities as a husband and a father.

While I never had the desire to be a parent myself, I imagine I could enjoy the company of my future nephew or niece, at least a few days a year. I though the Holmes family would end with us, but you gave it an heir, Mother will be proud of you.

However, before you can enjoy the joys of parenthood, you will have to go through the delicate time of your wife's pregnancy. I reckon you are quite unprepared for this situation, not that I am myself, however you will find in attached file a collection of articles that I suggest you to read as soon as possible.

Pregnant women are extremely sensitive and subject to hormonal changes that affect their mood. Knowing your sometimes complete lack of common sense, you should avoid at all cost the following topics in presence of Molly for the next eight months:

Difficult pregnancies

Difficult deliveries / still born babies

Children pathologies or malformations

Your wife's weight gain

Arrangements have been made with a gynaecologist in London's best obstetric clinic. If you wish to have a maid sent to help at home this can be resolved within the day, otherwise you are of course expected to take a bigger part into house chores.

As far as Moran is concerned, I don't have significant news to bring you. But some of our men have now infiltrated the network. It is a long-term job, however it could bring us some extremely valuable information in the future. I am aware that with your new family situation, the problem has become even more urgent and I am doing my best to solve it the soonest.

I am leaving tomorrow to Russia, but I shall visit you at my return.

Yours sincerely,

MH

**Subject : RE: Recommendations **

From : vernet1895

To : mholmes

Brother dear,

I don't even want to know how you were informed… but I shouldn't be surprised.

Take care of your dogs and MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS. We need neither your advice nor your maid.

Molly will come back to your concerning her doctor, that choice is entirely up to her.

SH


	19. Family Memories

**Chapter 18**

Even if he discarded Mycroft's recommendations, Sherlock soon opened a room in his mind palace dedicated to Molly's pregnancy and filled it with all the information he could find. He insisted she would describe in details all the sensations and changes she was experiencing. Having read that miscarriage could happen during the first trimester, he became extra protective of his wife, and monitored everything she would eat, drink or do. Molly thought it was cute but a bit excessive, and kept repeating that she was pregnant but not sick. She decided to continue working, even if Jeremy prevented her from carrying anything heavy and gave her only administrative tasks. Coming back from the book shop, she would find the dishes miraculously done and no more dirty socks laying around their bedroom.

After his mysterious trip to Russia, Mycroft kept his promise and visited them in Sussex. He brought with him a surprise that delighted Molly: a photo album of Sherlock's early years. The pictures started from the maternity where an aristocratic looking woman was carrying a baby boy.

"Your mother looks really beautiful", commented Molly.

There was another picture, with a chubby red hair boy of about seven years old. He was wearing a suit and looked very serious for his age.

"Mycroft, is that you?", she asked.

"Yes. And he does die his hair", replied Sherlock.

"You seemed very proud to have a baby brother."

"I was", said the older Holmes. "I just didn't know what I was getting into."

"Oh and there's even the announcement card. 9 lb, wow you were a big baby!" There was a hint a worry in her voice.

"And he didn't sleep through the night before he was a year", added Mycroft.

She flipped through the pages and watched little Sherlock growing up. He looked like a miniature version of his older self, with his big blue eyes and a mop of curly black hair. Most of the time he was posing with his nanny and Mycroft, more rarely with his mother and she saw his father only once. There were a few funny pictures of Sherlock dressed up as a pirate, or reading a book almost bigger than him, but globally, he looked like a sad little rich boy. The album stopped when he was about 10, she knew about what had happened then, but none of them mentioned it.

"I spared you the teenage years, maybe next time", teased Mycroft.

"Oh please do!", exclaimed Molly.

"I really don't see the point of it… ", complained Sherlock, rolling his eyes.

"Family memories, brother. It's only normal to share them when you are about to start your own one. Now If you will excuse me, I have to go for today. Molly, I will see you next Tuesday for you scan. Anthea has arranged an appointment with Dr Hewitt." He stood up and took him umbrella, ready to leave.

"Thank you, see you there", replied Molly.

"And don't bother coming back anytime soon", added Sherlock.

^/^

Later that night, Sherlock was reading in bed when Molly came down from the first floor.

"Writing in your diary ?" he inquired.

"No, I was searching for something"

She sat next to him on the bed and showed him a little pink cardboard box.

"It's from the stuff I never unpacked from my old flat. It's not really an album, just a few things I kept."

She opened the box and spread its content on the bed. There were some old movie theatre tickets, postcards, a shell, a pair of earrings and a few discoloured pictures. Molly took one of them and handed it to her husband:

"It's me and my dad"

There was a slight tremble in her voice. Sherlock knew how much she had loved her father how she missed him. He took the picture and smiled at the sight of a 6 years old Molly with her pigtails. It looked like a happy memory.

"This is one was at Christmas with my brother, this was my first cat Elliott, this… oh my god don't look at this one."

She tried to hide the last pic but Sherlock took it from her hands before she had the time.

"No… please. This one is horrible! I was 14!"

Molly was posing on what looked like a typical school picture. Her long hair hided part of her face, she looked shy and quite melancholic.

"My mum made me wear this horrible jumper, and I had such a bad acne", she complained.

Sherlock shrugged. "It's not the easiest age to be, for anyone".

"You say that but I bet you were hot even at 14. I'm sure you were the cutest boy in the class and I would have had a terrible crush on you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes"

"Even with brace?"

"You wore dental brace ?"

"From 13 to 16."

Molly broke out into a fit of laughter.

"Are you making fun of me ?", said Sherlock

"No, no", she said giggling. "I'm just surprised. But it did a really good job, you have a beautiful smile." She kissed him gently on the cheek as an apologize.

"Are you excited about the scan?", he asked.

"Yes. Well both excited and anxious to be honest."

"I wish I could come with you."

"Me too. But you know what Mycroft said, London is…"

"… too dangerous, yes I know", he finished with a hint of disappointment.

"I'll have you on the phone all the time."

"I want to hear everything the doctor says.."

" Yes, yes. I promise. I'll bring you the movie, the 3D pictures and everything. Now do you want to keep on reading ? Because I'm really tired and I want to sleep."

"I'm done, you can turn off the lights."

"Thank you, good night love."

"Good night."

"Good night _who_ ?"

"Love."

Molly smiled to herself, and made a mental note to text her brother-in-law to ask him for a picture of Sherlock wearing the brace.


	20. What's in a name

_**Hello!**_

_**Many thanks for your always kind reviews. It's so good to know so many of you are following this story. I am doing shorter chapters in order to be able to update more often. I hope to bring you another one soon! All the best xoxo.**_

**Chapter 19**

"Charles?"

"No, I arrested a Charles four years ago, famous blackmailer."

"Ethan?"

"Drug dealer"

"Anthony?"

"Serving a life sentence for killing for a triple homicide."

"Sherlock, this is ridiculous. Of course almost every first name was bore by a criminal a least once. It doesn't mean nobody can't use it anymore!"

"Too late, this is my turn. Sigerson?"

"No"

"Amyus ?"

"No!"

"Sherringford ?"

"Do those names even exist? Look, I know your parents had a lot of imagination, but I'd rather like if we didn't follow this bizarre Holmes tradition. No offence, I love your name, but I think life would be easier for our son with a more… _traditional _choice."

It was a beautiful day of July and Molly had improvised a picnic in their garden. She had returned from her second scan a few days ago, with the news that she was expecting a boy. She didn't have any preference concerning the gender, but was more excited than ever. She could start thinking about the future baby's room, his first clothes and the difficult task of picking a name. Sherlock and her had been exchanging on the subject for the past hour, Molly quoting possible names from a book she had just bought, Sherlock rejecting all of them and then making his own eccentric suggestions. This was going nowhere…

"What about Hamish?"

"Where does that comes from? It doesn't sound like the other ones, actually I quite like it."

"It's John's middle name. He once suggested that I should use it if I ever had a child with Irene Adler."

Sherlock hadn't even finished his sentence when he understood he had done a capital mistake. The look in Molly's eyes had suddenly changed, as if a storm was about to rise.

"Why would John ever suggest that?", she asked suspiciously.

"It was a joke. You know John, he likes to tease me when it comes to women."

"I don't think he would have suggested that he you weren't interested in her."

"I told you before, it was just a game."

"Yes a game… and your ringtone for her was an erotic moan, I heard it at the Christmas party. You know, I don't care if you slept with her, but you could at least be honest about it."

"I didn't sleep with her!"

"Then how did you recognize her from… _not her face_?"

"I don't understand why we are having this conversation. We were choosing baby names a minute ago…". But Sherlock's efforts to change the subject were in vain. Molly was still looking daggers at him, impatiently waiting for an answer to her question. He sighed in resignation. He had learned that it was useless to fight with a woman, especially a five month pregnant one.

"I recognized her body because I had seen her naked. Actually John did too."

Molly's eyes widened in surprise.

"No this is not what you think… We went to her house for an investigation and she presented herself naked to us. I imagine she was a bit of an exhibitionist."

"And a sado-masochist call girl. I saw her website."

"The correct word is dominatrix. But it doesn't matter anymore, she's dead."

Molly froze for a second, a realization seemed to hit her.

"Oh my God, she's alive!"

"What are you talking about? I just told you she was dead."

"You think I'm an idiot? You just did that thing with your eyes, you slightly looked down when you pronounced the word _dead_. You do that when you're lying."

Sherlock didn't even try to contradict his wife. He was always amazed by her capacity to read him.

"Alright. But then you should know I wasn't lying about not having a relationship with her."

Molly's features softened a little bit. Deep down she knew he was saying the truth about Irene, but she felt hurt that he had hidden from her such an important piece of information.

"Why did you lie to me? I thought we had no secrets, why didn't you tell me she was alive?"

"For the same reasons I'm hiding here playing dead! I am the only person in the world to know she is alive. Well I was. Her safety would be highly compromised if the truth was out."

"Does she know you are alive?"

"No. I haven't been in contact with her for over two years. I don't even know where she is."

"What if she contacts you when we go back to London? Your name will probably be all over the papers, I'm sure she will get in touch."

"Are you jealous?", he asked, rising an eyebrow.

"She is a beautiful woman. And she was obviously very interested in you."

"If I wanted to sleep with her, I had more than the opportunity. But I didn't. I told you the truth, she was just an intellectual challenge. A lot of women were interested in me, and yet you're the only one who got me."

"That's because I was the most persevering", she said with a smirk.

"You were for sure", he replied, drawing her closer to him for a kiss. "And you have absolutely nothing to fear about her, or anybody else. I am not the easiest man to live with, but I am faithful."

"I know", she whispered.

They remained silent for a moment, lying on the blanket Molly had spread on the grass, both staring at the clouds above them.

"I think I would like to name him Thomas, like my dad", said Molly after a while.

"It is a good idea."

"Isn't it the name of a thief or a serial killer?"

"Was you father a serial killer?"

"No !", she exclaimed laughing. "But are you sure you like the name?"

"Yes", he said with a nod.

"We can use Hamish as a middle name if you want", she added. "Not for her, for John."

"Thomas Hamish then?"

"Yes"

Molly put her hand on her now visible baby bump. Sherlock put his on top and leaned to talk to the baby :

"Thomas Hamish Holmes, I don't know if you can hear us, and even if you do you probably don't understand. But let me tell you that we ended up in a pretty weird family."


	21. Thomas

**Chapter 20**

Molly continued to work until her 7th month of pregnancy. Then Jeremy insisted that she would stay at home because he could see that she was too tired. The weight she had gained was largely concentrated on her belly which looked really impressive compared to her petite frame. Sherlock had developed some sort of fascination for that part of her body and would never miss an opportunity to touch it, especially when the baby would give a kick. He could also give some really good massages and she didn't mind being pampered a little bit.

Everything was ready to welcome little Thomas. They had arranged his room next to their own and Molly had a great time buying baby clothes (she was secretly hoping she could later find him a replica of his father's iconic coat and scarf). She couldn't wait to be holding her little angel in her arms.

The birth was planned on October 18th in London, with the obstetrician who had been following Molly from the start. The good thing with those private clinics was that they didn't ask too much questions. She explained that her husband was working abroad and wouldn't be able to attend. For more safety, she had decided to leave Sussex on the 16th, which turned out to be a good idea since her water broke in the car taking her to London. There was a moment of panic and they did the last part of the road at full speed, but they made it in time in London and she settled in her luxurious hospital room.

Thanks to a generous additional donation from Mycroft, Sherlock had been authorized to follow the whole process via a webcam. He had slightly changed his look in case a nurse might have recognized him: his hair was combed backwards to hide his curls and he was wearing a pair of glasses which made Molly laugh. However, the following morning Molly was still waiting and wasn't laughing anymore. It seemed that baby Thomas had decided to take his time and she was absolutely exhausted. Molly needed a break from Sherlock's constant talking, so she sent him to do a few house chores. When he came back, he found her in the middle of a particularly difficult contraction.

"Did you feed the cats?", she asked.

"I fed the cats, I took out the bins, I didn't set the house on fire. Everything on the list."

She tried to smile at the thought of how docile her husband had become, but the pain was too strong.

"More contractions?", he asked.

"Yes"

"Aren't they giving you anything for the pain?"

"Not yet."

Sherlock looked irritated. Patience had never been one of his virtues and the whole situation was driving his crazy.

"I want to talk to your doctor."

"Sherlock, he knows what he's doing. He had warned it could take some time because it's my first baby."

"Yes the second stage of labor can be longer for nulliparous women. But do you still feel the baby moving?"

"Yes I feel him, I feel him very much! Don't scare me!"

"Put the computer between your legs."

"WHAT?", she exclaimed.

"I want to check your cervical dilation."

"No way ! I have a nurse who does it every hour and it's already embarrassing enough. I don't need you to look at my vagina on a webcam."

"I'm your husband, it's nothing I haven't seen before! You saw far worse when I was at the hospital…"

"SHERLOCK STOP! Stop it now. I have been waiting here for the past 18 hours, there is human being about to come out of my body and you have no idea of the pain I'm in right now. You're really not helping me SO I'M GOING TO SHUT DOWN THIS COMPUTER!". She extended her hand towards the laptop to execute her threat.

"No !", yelled Sherlock. "Molly don't. Please!"

Molly hesitated to press the button. She was truly exasperated but Sherlock looked pretty distressed.

"You're right, I have no idea of what you're experiencing now. And you know how much I hate being ignorant about something. The truth is I feel completely useless here. I wish there was something I could do, anything…" He took his head in his hands and sighed.

She put her hand on the screen and caressed his face.

"Hey look at me. It's fine, I just want you to be there for me".

"Alright", he nodded.

Another wave of pain hit Molly, making her wince.

"Close your eyes", commanded Sherlock.

"Why ?"

"Close your eyes and just listened to my voice."

She didn't have the strength to start another conversation so she did as told.

"Now take a deep breath."

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to expulse all the air in her lungs.

"Good, one more time", he encouraged.

His deep baritone voice was soothing. Molly continued the exercise and started to feel more relaxed.

"That's good, don't stop. Now I want you to pick up a place where you would want to be right now. Can you think of one?"

"Humm… The garden, I'd like to be in the garden."

"Can you picture it?"

"Yes."

"Describe it to me."

"It's… it's sunny. There's the cherry tree. And… and the lilies I planted."

"Can you smell the flowers?"

"Yes, I smell them. And I can hear the birds too. I'm lying on the grass, like we did at the picnic."

"I'm here too, and I'm holding your hand."

"Ok, I'm holding it."

"Now I want you to look inside your mind and think of it as a house with different rooms."

"Like your mind palace?"

"Yes, but you can call it as you want. Can you do that?"

"I don't know. I'm trying…"

"Now pick up the most remote room, like the attic. In this attic, there is a wardrobe and in the wardrobe there is a safe. Can you see it?"

"Yes, yes I see it."

"I want you to open the wardrobe, and the safe, and put your pain into it. The actual concept of pain. You will put it in the safe, close it and lock it. Then you will take the key, and throw it by the window, the further you can."

She took another deep breath, and muttered to herself "Lock it… Throw the key…"

"Did you do it ?"

"Yes, I think threw it far away."

"Excellent, your pain is gone. Now you can open your eyes."

Molly did as told. She felt like waking up after a pleasant dream. She was relaxed and her pain was temporarily gone.

"Maybe you could start a new career as a hypnotizer. You have the right voice for it."

"It's a technique I used several time on myself. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you", she said with a smile. "Do you realise this is one of the last moment when it's just the two of us? I mean… Everything will change afterwards, we are going to worry for this little guy for at least the next 20 years."

"You mean for the rest of our lives? This is a Holmes you're talking about!"

"Yes… and he seems to be as stubborn as his daddy. I wish he could listen to his Hooper side and hurry up now!"

^/^

It took another 8 hours before Molly's wish was granted, but suddenly she wished it hadn't. No childbirth class or mind palace could have prepared her for that moment.

"You're doing a fantastic job, continue like that", said the doctor.

"I can't, I can't anymore…." Molly was panting and her forehead was covered in sweat. She looked at Sherlock on the computer, he was livid but encouraged her with a nod.

She clenched her first and gave another excruciating push.

"That's good, one more, the baby is almost here I can see his head, one more!"

She could you hear the doctor talking to her but his voice seemed so far away. One last effort and it would be over but her strengths were giving out after all those hours. All she wanted now what to see her son… She gathered the last energies she had in her and screamed as she gave the ultimate push. The pain was terrible but she forgot it instantly when the room was filled with a cry. The beautiful cry of a healthy baby boy. Her head was spinning and the following seconds were a bit of blur. She could hear distant words about the nurse cutting the umbilical cord and soon the newborn was placed on her chest. He felt warm and sticky but Molly was overwhelmed by a flood of intense emotions : pride, fear and most of all unconditional love. She caressed his cheek with a shaking hand and she started to giggle with joy. _She was a mother._ Suddenly she realised she had almost forgotten about Sherlock. She looked in his direction and smiled at him. His face was covered with tears.

"Can you, show you him to my husband please?", she asked the nurse.

"Sure."

She carefully took the baby from Molly's arms and placed herself in front of the computer's screen.

"Here is your son sir, a healthy little boy."

A huge grin spread across Sherlock's face. He quickly examined the tiny creature: 20.4 inches and 8.5 lb, ten fingers and toes and, from the volume of his screams, perfectly functioning limbs.

"Is it normal that he's crying this loud?", he asked with a hint of worry.

"Oh absolutely", replied the nurse. "He's angry because he was nice and cosy in his mummy's belly. And we need to clean him up. We will bring him back to you really quick."

"Alright…" he said, waving goodbye as the nurse was taking him away. The smile still hadn't faded from his face.

If Sherlock had observed his own behaviour from an external position, he would have found it revoltingly soppy. But right now, his brain was anesthetized by a high dose of the most powerful drug he had experienced so far: his love for his son. The flesh of his flesh. A human being he and Molly had created.

"Mrs Vernet, Mrs Vernet can you hear me?"

Sherlock's was roused from his reverie by the doctor's voice. He was hunched over Molly, who looked unconscious. Another nurse rushed into the room.

"What is going with her ?", inquired Sherlock.

"Put on under oxygen"

"Yes Doctor"

"ANSWER ME! WHAT IS GOING ON?"

"Don't worry sir we're looking after your wife. I'm sorry I'm going to have to stop the camera now."

"NO! No no no, do not turn it down!"

"This is a medical procedure sir, I'm sorry."

"MOLLY !", he yelled.

The screen went black.

^/^

Sherlock spent the most stressful twenty minutes of his life as he was waiting for news from the clinic. His brain was working at full speed, creating a multitude of terrifying scenarios in which Molly and his child would die or where he would be left a widower with an orphan to raise. All those ideas were absolutely unbearable. Hopefully, his ordeal ended when he received a call from Anthea, informing him that both the mother and the child were doing well. However, Molly needed some rest and wouldn't be able to talk to him for the moment.

Later that night he received a text from Mycroft. It said "Thomas, 20.4 inches and 8.6 lb. Congratulations. MH".

8.6 lb… he had been _almost_ right. He felt a twinge of jealousy that his brother could be there and not him. He went to bed but couldn't find sleep that night. The house suddenly felt terribly empty and kept looking at the picture of his son over and over again. _He was a father._

^/^

The following day, Sherlock was authorized to contact his wife once again. Molly was comfortably settled in bed and was holding her sleeping baby in her arms. She had placed the laptop on a nearby table so that Sherlock could have a good view. She greeted him with a warm smile.

"Hi love!"

"Hello. I should blame you. You scared the hell out of me!"

"I fainted that's all. I'm fine now."

"The doctor said you had stitches."

She nodded. He could tell she was still weak but was doing her best to hide it.

"You know you were… absolutely amazing?"

"I did my best… and he was worth it. Look at him!" Her hand gently brushed the top of Thomas' head.

"Is he doing well?"

"Yes, perfectly. All he does is eat and sleep."

"It won't change us too much from the cats then."

Molly giggled. "I can't wait for you to see him."

"When are you coming back?"

"I hope the doctor will let me go tomorrow."

"I want you back as soon as possible but take your time ok?"

"OK. Hey! Look who's waking up!"

The newborn was slowing opening his eyes and made a little cooing noise.

"Owww ! Hello Tommy, there is a surprise for you. Your daddy is here on the screen, isn't it magic?", she said pointing at Sherlock on the computer.

"Say hi to him!"

Sherlock looked a bit taken aback. The baby didn't master language yet, so how was he supposed to talk to him? He noticed that Molly's intonation was different when she addressed Thomas, one octave higher than usual. He would have to do research about that, but for now he decided to be himself.

"Hello Thomas. Hum, I am… your father."

Molly burst out laughing. "Hahahaha. This is too funny!"

"What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, nothing it's just cute."

"Can we take a minute to talk about what is going on with his hair? Is my son a punk?"

"I know, isn't it adorable? It's like a little mohawk! Baby hair is often a bit weird, but it won't last. They're not curly though. Have you seen his eyes? I don't know if they will stay blue, but the shape is totally yours!"

"Yes the lips as well. The rest is yours. I have studied many baby pictures on the internet, but I can affirm is he the most perfect specimen I have seen so far."

"Of course he's perfect, he's ours!"


	22. Home Sweet Home

**Chapter 21**

Three days after giving birth to Thomas, Molly was finally released from the clinic. Mycroft accompanied her in the car that took her back to Sussex, where they were welcomed by a very impatient Sherlock. After what seemed to him like a never-ending wait, the detective was finally able to hold his son. Molly gently took baby Thomas from his carrier and placed him in his father's arms.

"Put your hand behind his…"

"Behind his head, yes I know."

Sherlock examined the little creature in every detail and with a great fascination. The baby was looking back at him with piercing blue eyes that looked just like his. He felt a feeling rising in chest on which in couldn't quite put a name, something almost animal. When Thomas suddenly grabbed one of his fingers with his tiny hand, he let out a gasp of surprise.

"It seems that you two are getting along well", whispered Molly in his ear. "Can I leave him to you for a minute? I really need to use the bathroom."

"Yes of course", he replied, his eyes still fixed on Thomas with sheer amazement.

Mycroft had been observing the scene in silence so far.

"Enjoy it, they grow up quickly. I still remember the day when Mummy brought you back from the hospital."

"You thought: _this is the end of my happy days_."

"No you're wrong. Actually I was thrilled to have a little brother. And I also knew that from that moment, I would never cease worrying about you. Maybe now, you will understand what it means."

Yes Sherlock knew _exactly_ how it felt. If someone ever tried to hurt Molly or Thomas, he wouldn't hesitate one minute to kill him.

"I guess so. But you should stop worrying about me. I'm not a baby anymore."

"Oh sometimes I still doubt it. But whether you want it or not, I will always see you as my baby brother."

Sherlock looked up to his brother. It seemed that even the usually imperturbable head of the British government had softened in presence of his nephew. The iceman had finally melted.

"Sherlock…", he continued, "even after all those years I keep thinking about what happened with Carter and I am sorry I was unable to protect you. This is my fault, I should have realised…"

"Don't be ridiculous", cut Sherlock. "You were in college, how could you have known? And Mum was sick. The only one I could blame is dad, but he's gone so what's the point? On the contrary you were the one that made it stop. I just want you to stop meddling with my life because I am fine now."

Mycroft contemplated his brother, carefully holding his son and completely fascinated by him. Yes he was doing fine indeed. And he would be a great father, much better than their own.

"I hope Mummy will get to meet her grandson one day. She will be proud."

For once Sherlock didn't come back with a punch line or an insult. He just nodded.

Molly reinterred the room, carrying her photo camera.

"I want to take a few pictures! Sherlock look at me! Thomas look at Mummy!"

Molly checked at the shot on the screen but looked disappointed. "Hum… let's do another one , this one could end up on Awkward Family Pictures !"

"You know I don't like it…", complained Sherlock.

"Yes but this a special moment. We will show it to Thomas when he grows older, so you don't want to look like you're carrying an alien!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, he was always uncomfortable with pictures but Molly loved them. So he did an effort to look more natural.

"Much better ! OK with the uncle now !", exclaimed Molly gesturing at Mycroft.

The elder Holmes looked embarrassed and muttered an excuse "No, no it isn't necessary."

"Oh come on!", said Sherlock, always looking for an occasion to bother his brother. But Molly suspected he also genuinely wanted a memory of them together.

Mycroft moved from his corner and went to join them. He looked even stiffer than Sherlock and his smile was forced but it was still a good picture. They would laugh looking back at it in a few years.

"I will send it to you Mycroft, thank you again for your help with the clinic".

"It is only natural. And will you consider my offer for the nanny?"

Sherlock raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Mycroft, wanted to send someone over to help us for the first weeks. It is very nice of him but I told him it would be unnecessary", explained Molly.

"Absolutely unnecessary! I won't have a stranger looking after my child", exclaimed Sherlock.

"Sherlock, your wife is tired. The doctor insisted she needs some rest. She cannot take care of Thomas and the house on her own."

"On her own ? So you think I am completely useless that's it ?"

Mycroft let out a resignation sight. "This is not what I said and you know it."

"Oh this isn't what you said ?", continued Sherlock with a provocative tone.

"No ! But you have no experience when it comes to…"

A baby cry suddenly filled the room. Little Thomas seemed upset by the verbal fight taking place in the room and made it known very loudly.

"Perfect, you made him cry. Thank you Mycroft!"

"_I _made him cry?"

"Stop Stop !" said Molly taking back the infant from Sherlock's arms and comforting him. "Mycroft thank you very much for your offer, but I think Sherlock will manage. Look, I was out for 3 days and the house is pretty tidy."

"Fine, I leave it to your responsibility then. I will be going now, and I hope to get some news of my nephew."

"Humpf", snorted Sherlock, "you probably left a spy camera in his teddy bear".

"Don't worry Mycroft, we will keep you updated!", said Molly walking him back to the door.

^/^

Finally alone with Sherlock, Molly came to sit on his lap as she liked to do, still carrying baby Thomas in her arms.

"You enjoy it do you ?"

"What ?"

"Bickering with your brother?"

He grinned in response.

"I couldn't help hearing part of your conversation as I was coming back. I'm glad you told him that. He was probably feeling guilty during all those years, that's why he always so protective with you."

"I know", muttered Sherlock.

He circled her waist to draw her closer to him. His other hand was gently stroking Thomas' hair. He felt Molly relaxing and she placed her head against his shoulder. She looked indeed tired, but she had never looked so beautiful. Her skin scented different than usual, a mix of hospital, sweat and… milk. And her breast, well her breast was impressive. It was all terribly arousing but he knew this would have to wait for a while. Thomas wasn't crying anymore. He was slowly falling asleep with an adorable smile on his lips.

"The nurse at the hospital said we are very lucky because he's a quiet baby. And he smiles a lot."

"He looks like a funny boy."

"If you want to start helping, I'm going to give him his bath soon. Want to do it with me ?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world !"

^/^

_**Baby Thomas is home and his daddy couldn't be happier ! Thank you again for you kind reviews. I am on vacation so I will try to update soon. Have a great summer !**_


	23. One step at a time

**Thank you for your kind reviews ;-)**

**Faster update ever in a long time haha ! Hope you enjoy it !**

**Chapter 22**

The first days with Thomas at home were a bit hectic, but soon they managed to organise themselves and found a routine. Molly would be in charge of the nights, as once Sherlock was settled in bed it was more difficult for him to get up. And he would take care of Thomas during the days, allowing Molly to take a long nap in the afternoon.

Molly was quite impressed by Sherlock's parental skills. He never did things by halves, and now that he was a father he wanted to be the best one. During Molly's pregnancy, he had read almost every available book about babies and children (he even had his own annotated edition of _What to Expect when you expecting_). Sherlock was incredibly proud of every of his son's progress, and Molly didn't doubt he would become one of this highly annoying parent who keeps bragging about their offspring. It was both touching and very funny.

After one month they were both absolutely exhausted. But sometimes between two diapers to change, they would still find a little bit of time for the two of them.

"He's sound asleep, which means we have at least three hours of peace ahead", said Molly joining Sherlock in bed. It was 4 in the morning.

"Good", muttered Sherlock with a sleepy voice, "come closer it's cold."

She was more than happy to cuddle against him and get warm. He shifted to find the right position for both of them, and his hand came to rest under her nightgown, wandering from her hip to her belly. Molly suddenly froze.

"What is it?"

"Nothing… I feel fat"

"You what?"

"I said I feel fat. My stomach looks awful."

"You took 32 pounds during pregnancy which is in the average, and you already lost half of it. You have a body mass index of 22 which is not even close to overweight, so the use of the word fat is clearly hyperbolic. You have the body of a woman who just had a child, which is perfectly logical and I disagree concern the aesthetics aspects. Actually I personally enjoy it."

"You just like touching my breast", she said with a smile.

"Well I would be stupid if I didn't. Besides, I took more than 17 pounds myself since we have been together and I didn't hear you complaining about it."

It was one of her little victories in their relationship. After years of erratic eating habits, she had finally convinced Sherlock Holmes to have three meals a day.

"It's different, you were underweight!"

"Well anyway, as I said, you are not fat. And… if the underlying question behind your remark was _Am I still attracted to you?_ The answer is yes. By the way, how much longer do we have to wait?"

Due to Molly's stiches the doctor had advised they should wait at least 6 weeks before having intercourse.

"2 weeks, more it there are complications but I think it should be fine. It's healing well."

"Good."

"I was wondering… when we have sex again, do you think I should take the pill? We never talked about it before because we thought we couldn't conceive but now we know it's not impossible."

"Do you want other children?"

"Yes, what about you?"

"Absolutely."

"The thing is… we were very lucky to have Thomas but the chances to have another child naturally are pretty slim. So, even if it would be very early to be pregnant again, I don't want to miss one opportunity."

"It's up to you."

"I'm sure of it", she answered, resting her head on his chest.

^/^

"Come on quick, he's doing it again!", shouts Sherlock.

Molly rushes from the kitchen. Her son has crawled for the first time this morning and she missed it because she was in the shower. This time she arrives just in time to see her baby boy creeping and catches him in her arms as he's about to fall.

"Look at you Tommy, Mummy is so proud of you! You were crawling like a little monkey!" She places a big kiss on his cheek and the baby giggles back at her. He looks more and more like her every day. But his blue eyes didn't fade so they will probably stay this way.

"You want to try again? You want to crawl back to daddy?"

She puts him back on the floor and gives him a little push in direction of Sherlock, who is seated on the floor. After a short moment of hesitation he moves towards his father who has already his arms open ready to welcome him.

"Fantastic!", exclaimed Molly. "We have to catch it on video next time. Gosh my little boy is growing up so fast!"

"He's going to crawl and walk at full speed soon, I won't be able to go after him."

Molly doesn't know what to answer that so she gives her husband a faint smile.

"The book says babies usually start crawling between 7 and 10 months", continues Sherlock, "and he's only 6 months old!"

"The paediatrician said very he's very bright."

Even if he denies doing any experiment on his son, Sherlock is closely monitoring Thomas' development and noticed that he is always slightly ahead of every milestone. He's very proud of it of course, but he cannot help worrying as well. He fears that Thomas would be like him, _different._

He was particularly anxious before his 6 month check-up. Sherlock's own paediatrician appointments had always been a nightmare. He didn't want to be touched or answer the stupid questions. He remembers the concerned look of the doctor when he said the ink blot represented a bat. Mycroft later explained him that normal children usually saw a butterfly. He found it absolutely ridiculous but it had worried Mummy. Then there had been the other doctors, and those words: autism spectrum, Asperger, sociopath… Molly had confessed her husband fears to Thomas' doctor who answered there was absolutely nothing to worry about. He was a happy, healthy little boy, particularly communicative for his age.

In so many ways, a miracle.

^/^

Molly doesn't have time to write in her diary anymore. But sometimes late at night she still takes a moment to think about her day and her future. The dark times Sherlock and her have gone through are far behind. Ever since Thomas has entered their life everything has changed, because this baby is a true sunshine. She loves her son more than anything and she loves seeing the smile on her husband's face when they're together. She doubts she have ever seen him so happy, even on a case.

But being anxious by nature, she cannot help having fears. Because even if their life seems normal, it isn't. They are still in hiding and have no idea for how much longer. What will happen the day Thomas will go to school? Will they have to lie to their son about his own identity? What if he wants to bring friends at home? This is a heavy burden to carry for a little boy. She prefers not to think about that now. They will solve one issue at a time, as they have always done.

It reminds her of what Sherlock has said earlier about not being able to go after Thomas. That is an immediate problem. Now that their son can crawl and soon walk, it will be harder for Sherlock to look after him. She had though she could go back working part time soon, but… it isn't safe to let the two of them alone. If anything happens and Sherlock isn't quick enough to react, he would never be able to forgive himself. Then she will stay at home, even if means to depend again on Mycroft's money. One day maybe they will go back to London and she could work at Bart's again. Maybe Sherlock would take back some cases and Mrs Hudson would be delighted to babysit Thomas.

One day maybe… But today it doesn't matter, she will fall asleep happy.


	24. A day in the life

**Chapter 23**

It is a normal day at Wisborough Green. Molly wakes up a 6:30 for Thomas' breakfast. He sleeps mostly through his nights now but he is still an early bird. Then she cooks breakfast for herself and keeps a portion for Sherlock who never shows up before 8:00. He is wearing his usual blue dressing gown and Molly places a kiss on his cheek (she likes to do it when is still unshaven). She settles Thomas in his high chair and leaves him in the kitchen with his dad while she goes to take her shower. Sherlock browses through the various newspapers he receives from all other the world and reads out some articles to his son. Molly complains that he is confusing him by using so many different languages, to what Sherlock replies that is on the contrary crucial to get accustomed to various sonorities from the younger age. Thomas doesn't seem to care and answers with an equally passionate monologue in baby talk

Then Molly does a bit of cleaning in the living room while keeping a close look on Thomas who is now an expert crawler and will probably walk soon. He is playing with Luna who is luckily a very patient cat. Toby, on the contrary, disappears every time he sees the little boy coming in his direction.

During this time, Sherlock does his daily sport session. It is vital for his back and he needs his upper muscles to remain strong enough. Then he takes his shower, gets dressed (one of the most difficult tasks for him but Molly knows he will vehemently refuse any help), and starts to prepare today's lunch. It is one of the task Molly has delegated him since Thomas' birth and he is doing surprisingly well, especially with exotic meals. After all, cooking is just another form of chemistry.

In the afternoon, Thomas usually takes a long nap. Molly takes the opportunity to go out in the village for some shopping, leaving Sherlock in charge of the baby monitor. She goes to the grocery store and the pharmacy. She also makes a stop at the bookshop to have a chat with Jeremy. He has hired a new assistant, a handsome guy notices Molly, and she wouldn't be surprised if there was romance in the air. On her way back she greets Mrs Thomson, the butcher's wife who always fancies a little gossip. Everybody in the village likes Molly, even if they don't know much about her except that she moved here two years ago after her husband suffered a terrible car accident. He's an invalid and never gets out. Some people whisper that he might not the father of their little boy, there is probably a lover somewhere. But she is a brave girl, very polite and always cheerful.

When she comes back home, the first thing she hears is a persistent phone ring. She drops her shopping bags in the kitchen and goes to look for the boys. She finds Sherlock and Thomas in the living room, apparently in the middle of a violin lesson. She cannot help smiling at the sight. But this phone that won't stop ringing is really annoying. She quickly localises it on the mantelpiece and hands it to Sherlock.

"Could you answer your phone? It's from your brother."

"Of course it's from my brother, he is the only one to have this number. I can't pick up, I'm busy."

"He has already called 5 times, it's probably important."

"Probably or probably not. We're in the middle ofMendelssohn's _Lieder ohne Worte_, that is important."

"SHERLOCK!"

"What? I don't want to talk to him now. Turn it off or pick up!"

Molly lets out an irritated sight. She knows it's useless to start a fight about it, so she goes for the second option and picks up the phone herself.

"Hello Mycroft, this is Molly… obviously. Hum… I'm sorry but he is busy for the moment. Well… yes you know him… Do you want me to take a message?"

Even if Sherlock pretends to ignore the whole conversation, he keeps sending glares in his wife's direction. He quickly understands that something isn't right. Molly has turned almost white and her left hand is shaking.

"Oh… Oh my God", she whispers, looking back at him with teary eyes.

"What? Is it about my mother?"

"No..." She shakes her head and is almost smiling now. Sherlock is confused. "It's about Moran, they got him."

He remains completely speechless, for a second it seems that the information cannot make it to his brain. Molly steps forward, and takes the violin from his hands. She reads a bit of apprehension in his eyes but he finally takes the phone and quickly comes back to his senses.

"Mycroft? When did it happen? Why didn't you tell me you had a lead?"

He cradles the phone to his shoulder and rolls away toward his office. It seems that the brothers need to have a long, private conversation. Molly seats on the couch and takes Thomas in her arms.

"Did you hear that Tommy? Daddy is free now. It means we're going to London!"

"On" repeats Thomas after her. A tear of joy runs down her cheek.

^/^

It has been more than two hours since Sherlock is in his office now. She heard him talking with Mycroft for a while but now she doesn't hear noise anymore. She knows that he needs to be alone sometimes, especially in moments like this one, and she respects it. Despite her excitement and her curiosity she will have to wait and anyway, Thomas is here to keep her busy anyway. She takes care of his dinner and his bath, changes him into his pyjamas and puts him to bed.

Then she has a quick dinner herself in front of television. She watches the news hoping to see something about Moran's arrest but it is obviously being kept secret from the public. She wonders what will happen when the truth about Sherlock is going to be revealed. The journalists are going to go crazy for sure. She can already see the titles of the press saying "Sherlock Holmes is alive!" Will they be chased by paparazzi? She realises that the life they have lived for the past three years is going to change drastically. And even if she has been waiting for that moment for so long it feels… almost scary. All this time she had Sherlock for herself and now she will have to share him. With John, for their friends and most of all with his work… is she ready for it?

She turns off the TV and walks towards Sherlock's office. She cracks the door open and has a glimpse inside. He is there, eyes closed, hands in a prayer position beneath his chin, probably lost in his mind palace. She doesn't say a word and closes the door behind her.

She goes to bed but cannot find sleep so she takes up reading the last issue of the _Journal of Clinical Pathology. _She kept her membership all this time to stay updated with the profession. And now it may prove very useful. She is trying to focus on an article about cardiac autopsies when she finally hears some noise coming from the living room. She recognizes the familiar noises of her husband getting into the bathroom and brushing his teeth. Then he enters the room, and gets into bed with a transfer board. Molly always leaves his pyjamas on his pillow so that he can change more easily. Once he is done, she takes his clothes and puts them carefully on a chair (she knows he is quite obsessive about it being folded properly).

Then, she gets back into bed, lying on her stomach with her hands under her head on the pillow. She leaves the lights on because it's time they finally have a talk about what happened earlier. She wonders how to start it. Well… the simpler, the better.

"So, how did they catch him?", she inquires.

"The infiltration finally gave some results. They knew that Moran was back in London since a few months. He was getting short on money and was frequently seen at a poker club called the Bagatelle. One of his fellow players, called Ronald Adair, discovered he was cheating and threatened to turn him in. The poor guy didn't know who he was talking to… He was found dead two days later. But Moran got sloppy, he left clues. Mycroft gave the tip to Lestrade and his team who were able to catch him yesterday night. And they arrested the last members of the gang thanks to the information they found at his flat."

"So… does Lestrade know you're alive?"

"Yes, my brother told him. He nearly fell from his chair."

"I bet! What else did Mycroft say? Is it really over? Does it mean we can go back to London?"

"Technically yes. But there is some paperwork necessary to bring me back from the dead. Mycroft will speed it up of course but the procedure is a bit unusual so it can take some time. And there is the matter of accommodation. Both your flat and Baker Street have stairs so we need to find something else. Anthea is looking at houses in central London with a ground floor large enough or maybe an elevator, and then it will need to be adapted…"

"Wait, who's paying for this?"

"Me. I will soon get access to my money again and… we're actually quite rich. Anyway, it might take at least one month. But yes, we can go back."

He had spoken quickly but without passion, his eyes remaining fixed on the ceiling.

Molly extended an arm in his direction and squeezed his arm gently. His looked at her and she saw some doubt in his eyes.

"How do you feel about it? About coming back?", she asked.

"I'm not sure… I mean I have been waiting for it for such a long time, and now that it is here. I feel nervous."

"You know, I was thinking exactly the same earlier today. It's weird isn't it?"

"Do you want to stay here? I know you like it."

"It's true I like it. But I want to go back to London. It's where your work is, and mine, and all our friends… We can keep this house for vacation. And we could settle here when we're older and you could even have hives like you wanted."

Sherlock pictured Molly and himself, raising bees in Sussex in their old age. It was a pleasant image. Molly noticed that he seemed to be drifting in his thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?", she said asked, moving closer to him to rest her head against his shoulder.

"You know… I often wonder what would have happened if the plan had worked."

"What do you mean?"

"What would have happened if I didn't get injured? I would have hidden at your flat for a few days and then I would have left to chase Moriarty's network. I probably would have come back to London long ago, but nothing would have changed. I wouldn't have you and we wouldn't have Thomas."

"You don't know maybe I would have taken advantage that you were at my flat to… seduce you."

"I doubt it. I was way too self-centred to see anything. So… in a way I am glad the plan didn't work."

"Don't say that."

"But it's the truth. I've never been so alive than for the past three years. I've never been so alive than since I'm dead. And I remember that day at the hospital when you told me to hold on because things would get better. I'm not sure I believed you at that time but you were right. I'm a better man now and a happy one. And I don't want to lose it when we come back to London. I won't take too many cases. I don't need to be married to my work anymore because I have a real wife now."

"I'm not jealous, you can take cases. Just nothing involving call girls or dominatrix."

They laughed in unison. Sherlock took Molly's hand, kissed it tenderly and entangled his fingers with hers.

"I promise", he replied.

"So how do you plan to make your come back? What about Mrs Hudson?"

"I will probably just pop up into her kitchen and ask for tea. She will just wonder where I had been all this time."

"And for John?"

"Ah for John… I need to find something special. I was thinking I could wear a disguise, maybe knock at his door as an old crippled bookseller and when he would turn around I would remove the makeup and appear as myself."

"That sounds terrifying! No, no, no. Why do you always want to be so dramatic? He is going to be upset anyway, so just do something simple."

"Hmpff… Maybe I could invite him here?

"How? You are going to call him, say hey I'm alive come and see me in Sussex?"

"No, I will send him an invitation card, with the address and nothing else."

"And you think he will come?"

"Yes, I know my John."

Molly smiled. "What do you think he will be most surprised about? You being alive or us being married?"

"I think you should practice your CPR technique, he might need it."

"We can write him tomorrow if you want."

"Yes, tomorrow."

**THE END**

_Except… wait is that an epilogue?_


	25. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Sherlock and Molly came back to London and settled in the new house Anthea had found for them on North Gower Street. It is located close to Baker Street and is perfectly adapted for Sherlock, the previous owner being disabled himself. The first months were a bit hectic between the interviews for the press and the reunion with their friends. But soon they got used to this new life and Molly started to work part times at Bart's again.

John introduced them to his new girlfriend, Mary Morstan, who soon became his wife. But being the womanizer he had always been, the couple divorced three years later. After two divorces and two children, he is still looking for the future ex Mrs Watson.

On the contrary, Sherlock and Molly have a pretty cloudless marital life. They renewed their vows for their 10 years wedding anniversary and this time had a proper party surrounded by their friends and family. Thomas is now a very bright 8 years old who likes astronomy and soccer. He has two 4 year old twin sisters, Violet and Rose who were born after an IVF. The girls seem to have inherited their father's rebellious personality and "Uncle Mycroft" still remembers painfully the last time they stayed at his house for the week end.

Sherlock finally found the courage to tell his mother about the abuse he suffered as a child. He now pays her regular visits and the Christmas dinners are much more animated with the expanded family. Molly's relationship with her own mum is still rocky, but at least she doesn't have to hear anymore that she will remain a spinster. And because they don't want to repeat their parent's mistakes, they tell their children everyday how much they love them.

Sherlock is regularly taking cases from Lestrade, as well as from private clients. He doesn't run after criminals anymore but John and he have great fun working together.

He is still the only consulting detective in the world.

_**This is it ! Wow I cannot believe this is actually over. It was a pleasure writing Secrets and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. I am sorry if the updates took me so long sometimes. Thank you a million times for all your reviews, I love them so don't hesitate to post a last one!**_

_**I don't think I will start another fic for the moment, because I need some time for other projects. But who knows what Season 3 will bring for Sherlolly shippers? I may write a new story after seeing it ;-) **_

_**Lots of love ^^ **_

_**Fiji Dreamer**_


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